


It's All About Getting Used To It

by mickytaka558



Series: Begginings and Endings (It Will Never Be the Same Again) [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-04-20 18:59:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 79,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4798763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickytaka558/pseuds/mickytaka558
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been three months since they moved in together.</p><p>And if Tooru has to be honest, things are going better than he has played them in his mind in the beginning. Much better indeed. Yeah, definitely.</p><p>Not that he would ever admit it out loud.</p><p>Not even under torture.</p><p>***</p><p>A sequel to Make Your Final Choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Finding My Way Into Stable Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been three months since they moved in together.

It's been three months since they moved in together.

And if Tooru has to be honest, things are going better than he has played them in his mind in the beginning. Much better indeed. Yeah, definitely.

Not that he would ever admit it out loud.

Not even under torture.

The apartment is large. _Very_ large. There is a giant open space where the kitchen and living room are, separated by the counter with the stools where they eat at and beside the entrance, there is a hall that leads to the two spacious bedrooms and the bathroom. It's everything the two of them need. Probably even more.

They split the bills, and it's a relief that they have no rent to pay; Tooru can at least have more of the money he earns at his disposal. He really likes his part-time job – he has always imagined himself as a hot waiter in a nice café with hundreds of girls flirting with him everyday.

And this is what he got.

His boss is very pleased with him – ever since he hired him, the clientele has increased drastically (most of it being girls; though there are boys too) – so he even offered him a nice pay for his work after his first week. Tooru never hesitated to accept it: he has charisma and there is never any complaint about the service, and he has always worked hard on the way he is, so he firmly believes he deserves it.

Tokyo is everything he has ever wanted. It's so eventful, noisy and full of life... Everything that Sendai wasn't when he needed it to be – well, not the area where his parents live at least, since it's almost in the countryside.

He has always thought that living in the center of the city would be bothersome, but he is relieved to know that, for someone like him, it's the best place to live in.

Campus is close. To get there, he needs a twenty-minute walk and that's why he doesn't even have to wake up particularly early in the morning.

It's Wakatoshi who wakes him up everyday, as soon as he is back from his run and Tooru can't possibly understand how someone can be so active and full of energy at half past seven (on Mondays!). Sure, he also goes out for a run everyday, but he's always preferred to do it in the evening before dinner when he doesn't have to work.

It has become a stable routine.

Sure, there are still differences from day to day, but it's getting more and more full. Between studies, and homework, and practice... Tooru surely wasn't expecting to have so many assignments in the first period, but he remembers Wakatoshi explaining to him that, especially because theirs is a sports' university, it is required for them to know their bodies as much as they can; not as precisely as medicine students do though, but still... well enough.

When Tooru decided he would study regularly and fit some study hours in their weekly routine, it all became better. He has always been good at school, and in the extremely rare cases when he doesn't understand something, Wakatoshi takes care of explaining it to him – because, apparently... Wakatoshi has always been better than him at this too.

Tooru hates to admit it, but it's kind of reassuring (as much as it's troublesome for his insignificant pride), the fact that he can ask for help when he really needs it.

Wakatoshi never complains. Nor does he ever ask for anything in return.

Tooru finds it almost frustrating that the very person who's under his watch, the one whose flaws he looks for in the most insignificant things, is actually so good to everyone, him especially. There are moments when he can't help but wonder if he's still in the right when his grudges come to the surface.

But then... He's always right.

Definitely.

_Maybe._

Wakatoshi's behavior, mood and actions are the way they are when he's outside as well. He's quiet, minds his own business unless Tooru tries to gain his attention with obvious cheap acting that even someone as dense as him understands by now. Though there has been a certain amount of incomprehension during the first weeks – Tooru just doesn't understand how him poking Wakatoshi's side to try and distract him from his reading, while they were sitting on the couch in front of the TV and waiting for the commercials to end and the movie to begin, turned into Wakatoshi taking off his t-shirt and giving it to him, along with the statement that he might have been feeling cold.

In May.

Really?

When he realized it just can't possibly work without even the simplest kind of communication, Tooru started to explain things to him. Teaching something to his rivals is definitely not Tooru's favorite activity, if his past with Tobio has ever been a hint to anyone who knows him, but he tells himself it's for a good cause: a better quality of their cohabitation (it definitely isn't because sometimes he wants to be cuddled for no reason and is ashamed to ask; not at all).

So he is willing to make some sacrifices.

But everything else is great.

They came to an arrangement the very evening when Tooru moved in. Wakatoshi is assigned to take care of the kitchen: he prepares breakfast, lunch if they're home, and dinner; Tooru takes care of the cleaning: he is very good at keeping everything tidy and dustless when there is nothing else he has to take care of; he also offered himself to do the laundry – Wakatoshi would have had too much control over everything otherwise, and Tooru doesn't want to look like the lazy one.

On the few days there is no practice, they spend the time at home.

Tooru likes watching movies in the evening. Wakatoshi usually joins him when asked to, or when there is something he could be vaguely interested into – after a couple of weeks it has become almost natural for Tooru to have him on the couch next to him, sitting properly (the setter still can't understand why he never lets himself go and sprawls himself all over the place; can't he just relax like normal people?).

Sometimes, when too tired, Tooru falls asleep and when he wakes up in the middle of the night or in the morning, he finds a sheet covering him and a pillow under his head. It only happens when Wakatoshi isn't able to wake him up and tell him to come to bed.

When he thinks about it, he realizes he actually sleeps in Wakatoshi's room quite often, and it's not only when they have sex (though they _do_ have sex most of the time they spend together in there). Wakatoshi never asks him to leave when he's inside, and it is stronger than him at times – he just lets himself crawl under the covers and falls asleep with a strong arm wrapped around his waist and wakes up with his head resting in the crook of Wakatoshi's neck, their legs tangled.

The sex is great.

Probably the best Tooru has ever had.

It is him who usually initiates it and eventually lets Wakatoshi take charge and enjoy himself to the fullest – Wakatoshi _likes_ to take charge; he likes to raise him up, make him wrap his legs around his hips and take him to his bedroom where he throws him onto the bed and fucks him so hard Tooru can't see straight until they're done – nor the next day can he walk without feeling the searing pain in his lower back.

Ever since they are alone, the tender and uncertain touches have disappeared, leaving space to possessive touches of greedy hands and bites of sharp teeth, which only make dark marks bloom over their bodies, that keep getting noticed in the locker room – Satori makes sure not to miss any.

That's why, after the first month of embarrassing explanations on Tooru's part (which kept getting ruined by Wakatoshi's _damn_ sincerity), they decided to limit their activities and save them for Saturdays, after Tooru comes home from work – because Tooru can't afford himself to be sore every morning when the team works on their stamina; he wants to get into the National team and play with Wakatoshi against teams coming from all over the world.

With the weapons he has on his side, he's pretty sure he's going to make it.

Bokuto Kōtarō, Kuroo Tetsurō, Tendō Satori and Ushijima Wakatoshi...

A solid team with deadly weapons.

They sure show off a lot during practice. Even the older players have their eyes on them during practice matches within the team. For now, when they play against other schools, they are still forced to sit on the bench and watch – except for Wakatoshi; him being already a National player assured him a spot among the regulars even since they stepped into the gym on the first day.

But none of the others is planning to be a bench warmer forever.

University players are so much stronger than high schoolers: a whole new level of skilled that the new entries just want to experience as soon as possible.

Tooru has all the intentions to make it happen fast.

Thanks to his previous interest in the two players of Nekoma and Fukurodani, he approached them during their first practice. They were sticking together, so he brought Wakatoshi with him (Satori kind of tagged along to see what would happen) and they ended up sitting in the café bar where he works at.

Tooru didn't hesitate to ask them questions. He does so even now, whenever a something pops in his mind - he always wants to know his spikers the best, and it's not only limited to their volleyball playing but everything else as well.

Needless to say, he and Tetsurō immediately found each other half-way, being both sadistic bastards, how Satori likes to call them (not that he is much different than them, in Tooru's opinion).

Kōtarō was the one he clicked with the moment they sat across from each other, thanks to his cheerful and outgoing behavior around people. Even Wakatoshi seems to like him, though he doesn't show it too much (but Tooru knows he does).

Satori was a little harder for Tooru to digest; he surely wasn't expecting to see him in their gym, especially since Wakatoshi has never mentioned the possibility of him ending up close to them in any way, and giving their past rivalry, he certainly wasn't a pleasant surprise. But when the setter noticed the huge competition around them, he let go of his pride (just a little) and gave him a chance; he is kind of glad he is keeping with that. Satori is amazing when he's on his side of the field.

Practice is kind of rough.

Sure, the level of the players is high and for Tooru it is not a problem to keep up with them and perform everything the best way he can, but when he returns home in the evening, he's exhausted. And when he thinks that this is only the third month of forty-eight in total, tiredness strikes him even harder.

Tossing to Wakatoshi is unexpectedly nice. Tooru knows what he needs to be at his best – the high toss – and every time he slams it to the other side on the net, it leaves him breathless, eyes watching it bounce off high and far away from them. He hates how naturally it comes to the wing spiker. Damn geniuses.

However, he can't really deny the satisfactory feeling it leaves tingling in his whole body, the burning desire to return there the next morning and do it all again.

Wakatoshi always takes care of making him comfortable in days like this, when he comes home in a thousand pieces, he brings him the pillow from his bedroom, while he watches a recently released drama. When he hands it to him, Tooru puts it under his head and sighs, shifting ever so slightly and pulling his legs to his body.

He knows he won't be able to stay like this for very long.

In a few weeks there are going to take place his first exams, which are announcing the end of his first semester. Fortunately, Wakatoshi is the type of person who studies regularly, and Tooru feels the right kind of motivation next to him (it is not true; he just doesn't want to fall back – rivalry never disappears in cases like theirs), so he's even ahead in some of his classes. So he should do just fine.

Then he expects to enjoy his Summer break. Maybe he'll even convince Wakatoshi to go somewhere to the sea with him. It's been a long time since his last trip to the beach.

“I'm tired, Ushiwaka-chan.”

Wakatoshi turns around to look at him from the kitchen, a plate and a cloth in his hands.

Tooru wonders how he even has the strength to wash dishes with this heat.

It's... Unbelievable.

“Maybe you should go to sleep, Oikawa.”

Tooru whines. “But it's only 23.00 o'clock! It's early! And it's hot!”

Wakatoshi sighs and returns to his task and once every single plate is back to its place, Wakatoshi heads to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of fresh, homemade ice tea. Tooru finds it much better than the ones in the store. Wakatoshi makes him pick the flavor every time he's about to go and buy the ingredients to prepare it.

The spiker pulls out the biggest glass from one of their cupboards and takes it all to the coffee table in front of the couch.

Tooru is grateful for the way their apartment is made. Thanks to this, he can always see Wakatoshi in the kitchen and Wakatoshi can see him in the living room.

Tooru watches the liquid being poured into the colorful glass and then shifts his gaze to Wakatoshi, who's not facing him. When he's done, he stands back up and is about to returns to the kitchen when Tooru sits up.

A movie is starting. And Tooru recognizes the macabre atmosphere right off the bat. It's a horror movie. He suddenly gets an idea – he still hasn't tried this.

“Watch this with me,” he says and Wakatoshi looks at the screen, tilts his head to the side, as if thinking about something, until he shrugs and sits on the couch, putting the half-empty bottle on the table.

Tooru groans at the man's perfect and collected posture. He shifts position and crawls closer to the spiker, before grabbing a cushion and adjusting it on his lap so he can lie on it. In less than a second, he feels Wakatoshi's hand slide in his hair, his fingertips rubbing gently at his scalp. He sighs.

He's already watched this movie. What was its name? Ah, he doesn't remember. Does it matter?

And even though he remembers most of the plot, the jump scares still make him cringe, wince. He believes he goes unnoticed, when after the umpteenth time, Wakatoshi makes him roll on the couch so he's lying on his back and they are looking at each other in the eyes.

“Are you afraid?”

Tooru laughs, perhaps a little bit too early. “Of course not.”

He feels warmth on his cheek and leans into it. Wakatoshi is doing it again...

“I'm not afraid. Don't worry, Ushiwaka-chan, I'm a big boy.”

Wakatoshi contemplates his words before his eyes move back to the screen.

Towards the end, during the most intense scenes, Tooru closes his eyes, buries his face in the cushion. All of a sudden, Wakatoshi turns off the TV, surprising him. “Why did you do that?!”

“You are afraid.”

Tooru grits his teeth, looks away from him. Wakatoshi spots a light blush adorning his cheeks and he can't help but observe it for a while. He touches the flushed skin, notices hazel eyes widening ever so slightly. But there is no teasing comment following his action and he is kind of glad for it.

“Shall we sleep?”

Tooru smirks this time, pulls away. “Will you protect me from the monsters?”

Wakatoshi blinks and Tooru laughs, this time without any nervousness. “I'm kidding. Let's go.” He stands up first and the spiker follows, immediately heading to his bedroom and separating from Tooru. He changes quickly, having taken a bath after practice, switches off the lights and lets himself comfortable on the bed, pushing the covers away from his body as much as he can.

He closes his eyes.

.

Somewhere in the middle of the night, the door of his room opens and, being a very sensitive sleeper, Wakatoshi's eyes fly open and he sits up. His eyes immediately move to the digital clock on his nightstand and sees the red numbers saying 3.35 am. Automatically, his hand goes to the lamp on the side of his bed and he illuminates the room.

He finds Tooru is standing on the doorway, an expression of mixed feelings plastered on his face, but he spots a pout. _The_ pout that sums it all into one thing.

“Is something wrong, Oikawa?”

Tooru grunts.

Hesitates.

“Can I sleep here?”

“Yes.”

Tooru walks to the bed and lies on what these days has become his side on the king-sized bed. He lies on the pillow, facing towards the spiker and observes darkness overcome them. He closes his eyes, allows himself to relax thanks to the presence next to him.

He pisses him off.

But he doesn't push him away. It's something he used to do with Hajime too, in the past.

***

In three months and a half, Hajime hasn't replied to any of Tooru's texts. And he _did_ text him. A lot. He even tried to call him after the first three days where there was everything but replies from his best friend.

He didn't answer.

He still never does.

Hajime's birthday is so close, and Tooru doesn't even know if he's going to be able to catch him somewhere, or make him answer his call, so he could at least wish him the very best and be able to hear his voice.

He often thinks about the way they separated, and it still hurts as if it happened just now. It keeps leaving bitterness on his tongue and salty wetness in his eyes whenever he remembers that pained grimace, the shattering sound of his best friend's heart.

All because Hajime wanted him to be happy.

He decided hurt himself, forget about his own feelings for Tooru's happiness.

And he can't feel anything but guilt.

He thinks about him at night, usually. When he's alone in his room, glued to the bed with his eyes on the white ceiling (it's so plain, unlike the one at home).

Maybe that's one of the reasons he has started sneaking into Wakatoshi's room... His presence is strong enough to make his thoughts just stop, and as much as he feels humiliated by all the times he finds himself _needing_ the very rival he swore to stay away from, he lets it pass.

Only for the night.

In the morning he gets back to normal. In the morning everything gets back to normal.

Until the sun falls down.

***

“Hey, hey, hey!”

Some time during the beginning of Tooru's fourth month of college, Kōtarō flies into the café like a mad animal, startling some of the customers when he runs to the counter and sits next to Tetsurō. Tooru leans over the counter, and glares at him. “Kō-chan, stop making all this noise whenever you come in. I'll have to kick you out if my boss finds out about it,” he whispers to him and the spiker grins apologetically, brings a hand to the back of his head.

“Sorry, I keep forgetting that all the time.”

“Idiot,” Tetsurō snickers.

“Shut up!”

Wakatoshi observes them, while sipping at his coffee quietly.

Kōtarō shakes his head after greeting him. “I heard there are going to be scouts at our next game!”

Since there are many members in their volleyball club, the first years found out that twice a year, the coach organizes a mini tournament between teammates, made of eight teams of ten people. This kind of event is very popular in their campus. Later on they found out that every major club does the same.

Tooru's eyes widen and Tetsurō tilts his head to the side, interested in ulterior details. But Wakatoshi interrupts them. “Yes, they are going to be there. The coach has spoken to me about it. He says he will arrange four different teams to compete against each other, so they can observe every member and decide whether there is someone worthy of becoming a part of the National team.”

The three of them listen to him carefully and Wakatoshi notices a weird glint in their eyes, in Tooru's especially. He doesn't really understand their excitement, but he likes it.

“Is there a way we can end up on the same team?” Tetsurō asks.

Wakatoshi thinks about it for a moment. The coach did talk to him about that too. “If during practice the three of you seem to fit the best together, then you will be playing together in the game.” Wakatoshi watches the others exchanging knowing looks.

Then Kōtarō is looking at him. “Are you allowed to play with us?” Because Wakatoshi has already his place in the National team – what if the coach decides to keep him out for the others?

“Yes.”

It's nice to know his first thought is wrong. Having Wakatoshi on their side would be a huge strength.

“Very well then... Ushiwaka-chan. Looks like I'll have to give my best,” Tooru says all of a sudden, his expression pleased, but not cheerful. Wakatoshi immediately recognizes the look in his eyes, the look he wears during every single challenge.

Tooru glances at the small calendar among the many bottles. Their next game is in three weeks, right after their exams. Thanks to Wakatoshi's study method, he will have all the time he needs to work on their strategy. He hopes he can include both wing spikers in it. He thinks about asking Satori and Hayato as well.

And if they all say yes, he's going to have his team. And he's going to lead them to the top.

***

That evening, when Tooru gets back home, he finds the counter already arranged for dinner and Wakatoshi cooking. An incredibly nice smell is filling the whole room and Tooru can't help but watch him for a moment, before muttering a quiet “I'm home.”

Wakatoshi looks at him, his expression a little softer than usual. “You can take a bath. Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes.” Tooru nods quietly and heads in the bathroom. He takes his phone and wallet next to the sink and strips from his clothes and makes himself comfortable in the bathtub. He lets the water run until it's full, making sure it's not too hot. The summer break is close.

Unfortunately, it seem he won't be able to return to Miyagi for as long as he had planned in the beginning – their tournament will take place during the first week of it. Maybe he should call his mother to let her know. He hopes she'll understand – he really misses her and everyone else, but he needs this opportunity. It's everything he ever wanted and he just can't let it go by.

He washes himself quickly and then gets out of the tub. He dries himself quickly and wraps a towel around his waist before picking up his belongings and heading to his room. He takes out a t-shirt and shorts from his wardrobe and wears them. He decides to take his phone and wallet with him to the living room, so when he's about to get out tomorrow, he won't forget them.

He puts them on the coffee table and then walks into the kitchen, where Wakatoshi is now serving the food.

“Do you need help with anything?”

“No,” Wakatoshi replies, putting the last plate on the table.

They don't speak much as they eat. Tooru has learned not to compliment Wakatoshi's cooking anymore. He's good at it, excellent... And he knows it. Besides, Tooru has learned Wakatoshi cooks exactly what Tooru likes; whenever he prepared something that Tooru wasn't particularly fond of and was told about it, the dish left their table for good (fortunately, Tooru doesn't dislike many things). He always makes sure there is milk bread for Tooru to have at any time of the day – the setter is planning to eat a whole loaf after dinner; ever since he moved in and started practicing again, Wakatoshi's large portions have ceased to be a challenge for him, because he consumes every single bit of what he eats.

They don't go out often – they don't really have the time, so they limit it to Fridays only. Today would also be a nice evening to go out, but Tooru works until eight on Saturdays, and he has practice in the morning, so he's really not in the mood.

But there is one thing that he really wants to ask the man in front of himself. As much as it is embarrassing for him, especially after six years of never backing down when Wakatoshi was asking him to join him in Shiratorizawa so he could win too, he knows his chances are lower than they could be if he's not going to be there.

“Ushiwaka-chan?”

Wakatoshi stops eating and focuses his attention on the setter.

Tooru looks away. “I...” he pauses, “Shit, this is embarrassing as fuck...”

Wakatoshi blinks.

Tooru takes in a deep breath. “We have that game in a few weeks, and I was wondering if... if you... Shit.” He feels pathetic. Wakatoshi has always mentioned how insignificant that pride of his is making his life harder than it should be and this is the first time he actually finds himself agreeing with him.

He meets the gold of those sharp eyes, finds them telling him to let go for once, and it makes his shoulders relax.

“Will you spike my tosses when we play?”

Wakatoshi's lips curve up in a small, almost invisible smile.

“Yes, I will.”

He speaks his words with no hesitation whatsoever, and Tooru feels his cheeks turning red as his heart starts to beat faster against his ribcage. He curses the spiker for being able to make him feel like this so easily. He really has become a master in that in these few months – Tooru kind of fears what's to come next.

They finish their food soon after and, since Wakatoshi has taken care of cooking, Tooru tells him to go to the living room while he takes care of the cleaning (all while eating his beloved bread), and Wakatoshi obeys.

Tooru washes all the plates with ease – his job has helped him out in gaining speed; he finishes about seven minutes later and joins the other man on the couch.

Before Wakatoshi has the time to even acknowledge his presence, Tooru is already moving and sitting on his lap, a teasing smirk on his face, his hands placed on broad shoulders.

“Oikawa,” Wakatoshi speaks, but Tooru shuts him up with a kiss on his lips, hard and passionate, and _hot_. Wakatoshi doesn't react at first, but when Tooru rubs him gently with his hands, Wakatoshi hums into it and his hands move to grab the setter's hips and pull him more into himself. Tooru moans lowly, his hold on Wakatoshi tightening until his nails sink lower and dig into the hard flesh of Wakatoshi's exposed, muscled arms, and his tongue darts out, licking a wet stripe on Wakatoshi's bottom lip.

As a result, Wakatoshi leans forward and bites gently on Tooru's and cages him against his chest with both his arms. Despite being trapped in this position, Tooru enjoys it. They kiss again, and the setter's hands slowly travel up and into Wakatoshi's hair, pulling on his locks and making the man underneath him groan.

Tooru rolls his hips gently against Wakatoshi's and they both shudder at the friction. It won't take long before they are ready to take this further. Tooru tugs at the taller man's t-shirt and doesn't stop, moving to kiss his well-defined jaw and neck, pressing his tongue against his pulse, until he is forced to pull away so the now undesired cloth can be removed.

Once the new exposed skin is in front of him, Tooru's lips move to the juncture between the spiker's neck and shoulder, where he bites hard, earning a grunt from the other, until a mark shows itself on the sun-kissed skin. Around it, Tooru leaves others, a little less defined and decides it's enough only when there are at least five other red spots. They should disappear by Monday afternoon. He hopes they will.

When he straightens up, Wakatoshi places a gentle kiss on his neck, before letting him slide down his thighs, only to get on the floor and kneel between his spread legs.

Wakatoshi feels his blood boiling when he sees half-lidded hazel eyes looking at him, as skilled hands make their way to the waistband of his shorts before pulling them down along with his briefs, only to reveal his half-hard cock underneath.

Tooru licks his lips slowly, smirking ever so slightly, before he takes off his own shirt and throws it aside. He then approaches him once again and raises his hand. Wakatoshi clenches his teeth when Tooru spits on his palm and proceeds to take him in his hand. He begins to stroke him slowly, enjoying the way Wakaotshi's brows furrow as he slowly gets fully hard. He grunts.

Tooru still hasn't taken him in his mouth.

“What is it, Ushiwaka-chan?”

Tooru knows Wakatoshi doesn't like it when he calls him that when they have sex, but right now he is the one being in charge, and he won't let his grand chance of teasing him and getting an actual reaction go by.

His grip around Wakatoshi's cock tightens and the rhythm of his strokes fastens, earning a deep sound Tooru likes very much. “Do you like it?” he asks playfully, but earns no response. Wakatoshi has closed his eyes, thrown his head back. Tooru chuckles and leans forward, places a kiss on Wakatoshi's thigh and then moves up to his abdomen, his tongue tracing every defined muscle it finds on its way, until Wakatoshi buries his hand in Tooru's brown locks and pulls him away abruptly.

The setter gasps at the sudden contact and looks up.

“Oikawa...”

“What is it?” he asks almost innocently. “Do you want to be in my mouth, U-shi-wa-ka-chan?”

Wakatoshi's expression turns into an irritated scowl and it amuses Tooru to no end, but he thinks he deserves to be rewarded without too many complications for tonight. He clicks with his tongue and moves until his face is in front of his cock. Their eyes meet for a brief second, until Tooru moves forward and gives it a long lick, from base to tip. He then lets his tongue lap around the head a couple of times, and when Wakatoshi's hold on his hair tightens, he wraps his lips around it and starts to take him in.

He breathes through his nose and moves forward until his nose is touching short, dark hairs and tries to relax so he won't gag. A couple of seconds later, he pulls back and ends their contact with an exaggerated 'pop' that makes a shiver run down Wakatoshi's spine.

The spiker's hand moves to his cheek, before moving away completely and letting him return in charge once again.

Tooru takes him in his mouth again, lets his tongue swirl around him before he starts sucking gently. His hands travel to Wakatoshi's hips, fingers dig into the flesh to hold him still, because he knows he'll start moving soon enough. Hazel eyes never leave Wakatoshi's face – he loves to watch that usually impassible expression twist and shatter as pleasure takes over every part of him. He loves when Wakatoshi is brought to his limits, when he looks and behaves like a _normal_ human being.

Sometimes Tooru forgets about it and he likes to be reminded.

He hollows his cheeks as his head bobs up and down, his sucking intensifying and making the spiker approach his so desired release. A skilled hand of the setter follows the rhythm of his mouth, covering the places he exposes every time his head moves back, and the other one is underneath him, gently cupping Wakatoshi's balls.

Wakatoshi starts to tense, and when Tooru knows he's so close to falling over the edge, he pulls away abruptly, placing a gentle kiss on the flushed tip. Wakatoshi growls, large hands move on the setter's shoulders as he shifts and leans forward with his upper body. Tooru doesn't get afflicted by the intimidating glare he's receiving, and instead leans in and kisses the corner of his mouth before standing up and pushing him back.

He removes his pants and boxers and lets out a pleased sigh when his own cock is freed from the tight restrain and then he reaches for his wallet on the table.

Wakatoshi gives him a curios look, but then understands as soon as he sees the setter pulling out a condom and another package similar to it. When Tooru hands them to him, he realizes the other one is lube.

“Ready to open me up?” he asks, moving onto the couch, adjusting himself on his hands and knees and making sure his ass is facing the spiker, giving him the perfect view.

But Wakatoshi doesn't seem to be satisfied by it. He turns to his side, his hands grab pale, muscled thighs and he pulls the setter towards him. Tooru shrieks and his eyes widen when he finds himself lying on his back, with gold eyes piercing into him from above. “Ushiwaka-chan?”

“Don't call me that,” Wakatoshi says before getting on top of him and making their lips meet once again. Tooru moans into the kiss, so aroused it's almost painful to bear, but he can't deny how much he enjoys being treated like this. The more he waits, the better it'll feel later, so he tells himself to have patience. When they part, Wakatoshi moves down, leaving a trail of kisses until he reaches a hardened nipple.

He gives it a first, teasing lick, which earns him a muffled gasp. Encouraged, he starts sucking on it, lets his tongue run over it, over and over, until it's even harder and red, and then moves to the other one to give it the same treatment.

When satisfied, he pulls away, straightens up and spreads the setter's legs wide, pushing them up to his chest and waiting until Tooru's arms wrap around them to hold them still. Tooru nods after he's sure his hold is strong enough not to give into the pleasure, and Wakatoshi opens the lube's package and pours a small amount on his fingers, pausing only to warm it up a little with his fingertips.

The first one immediately goes for Tooru's entrance, rubs around it a couple of times before slowly pushing in. Tooru lets out a quiet moan at the intrusion, but it's all but painful. He's used to this by now, and Wakatoshi is always extremely gentle when preparing him, no matter how passionate and needy they are.

He takes his time, lets Tooru adjust to every single bit of him before pushing in a second finger. Tooru moans louder when Wakatoshi starts moving them in a scissoring motion, and throws his head back when he curls them and the tip of his index finger brushes against his prostate.

“F-fuck.”

His hips start moving on their own, meeting Wakatoshi's hand eagerly and shuddering when the third finger joins in as well.

Wakatoshi's free hand moves to Tooru's cock, and takes it in a strong grip, stroking him slowly to get him relaxed more easily, and when the setter lets himself sink into the soft cushions and enjoys the godly feeling it brings him for a while. But when he feels stretched enough and ready to get more, he looks at him. “It's enough.”

Wakatoshi pulls out ad Tooru immediately hisses at the sudden feeling of emptiness, but he feels more relieved when he sees Wakatoshi putting on the condom given to him and then pouring the rest of the lube over it before throwing everything aside.

Tooru feels his mouth watering when the spiker finally moves forward and adjusts the tip of his cock against his twitching hole and adjusts his legs against his shoulders so Tooru's hands are free.

And then he's pushing in. Slowly.

Tooru whines – there is always resistance at first, no matter how much Wakatoshi prepares him before forcing his way in, and it's always a bit painful, but it's getting in much easier now.

When the head is in, Tooru lets out a breath and then a strangled noise when Wakatoshi pushes in until he's buried in his tight heat down to the base. Tooru's eyes are shut tight, but Wakatoshi's lips immediately find his and kiss him until he's fine enough to look at him with blown out, glassy, dark eyes.

He nods shakily and Wakatoshi begins to move. They always start slow, and enjoy every single meeting of hips with touches all over each other's bodies, lips meeting every now and then in between, as even more marks blossom on their necks and shoulders.

But when the initial faint feeling of the warmth in their stomach's starts to take a heated shape, it all gets lost for them to let out all the lust and need gathered during the week.

Wakatoshi's thrusts gain speed and force, making Tooru's eyes roll back in his head and louder moans escape his lips when he feels himself being pushed deeper into the cushions with every meeting of hips.

Tooru exhales, reaches out with his arms until he's able to wrap them around Wakatoshi's neck, and he pulls him forward, wrapping long legs around his waist instead. They kiss, but it doesn't last long as the need to breathe soon becomes desperate.

The only noises in the living room are their moans and gasps, accompanied by the intense slapping of their hips every time Wakatoshi slams inside of him.

“Come on, harder,” Tooru pants and screams out when Wakatoshi complies and hits his sweet spot along the way. Wakatoshi's arms slide in the space between Tooru's back and the cushions and he pulls him into his warmth, burying his face in that delicious neck, where he starts biting.

Tooru wonders if their neighbors hear him when he's like this. He finds him not caring about it anymore as soon as Wakatoshi rubs against his prostate for the umpteenth time. The spiker's calluses leave a burning feeling in Tooru's shoulder blades and Tooru's brain starts to fail to keep him connected with reality.

Hazel eyes fall shut and he tilts his head to the side, nuzzling into Wakatoshi's, before he turns it around and makes his lips find his ear. “I'm _so_ close,” he whispers, before his voice gets once again lost in incoherent words and whines. One of Wakatoshi's hands moves away from underneath the setter and moves onto his now leaking cock, stroking him hard and fast, in rhythm with his thrusts.

Tooru feels his stomach starting to ache, as the warmth pooling in it becomes more intense, impossibly more intense.

“Oh, God... _I'm-_ ”

His cock jolts, and he comes in thick, white spurts all over Wakatoshi's hand and his own stomach, and it's so hard his vision blacks out. He moans lowly, voice raw and shattered. His back arches into Wakatoshi, who fucks him through his orgasm until he's spent and pretty much just an open nerve, sensitive to every single touch, every kiss.

But Wakatoshi is not done yet.

He pulls away from their embrace, adjusts Tooru's legs to the previous position and stops only to place an open-mouthed kiss on the inner side of Tooru's right knee.

Tooru watches him through half-lidded eyes, body sensitive (way too sensitive for his own mental sanity, Tooru believes), and gets ready for what is to come next. Immediately, Wakatoshi resumes the intense thrusts, kicking of the little of Tooru's breath left in his lungs. Tooru feels like screaming, but he just doesn't have the strength to. This feels... So good.

And then Wakatoshi is giving him the last few thrusts, before burying himself deep inside of him and letting out a loud groan. Tooru watches the ecstatic expression on Wakatoshi's face, watches hard and defined muscles shake, and moans.

When fully spent, Wakatoshi pulls out a him with a grunt and then collapses on top of him; he buries his face in soft brown hair and takes in deep breaths to regain control of himself.

Tooru feels his body crushed underneath the taller man's, but he adores it. It's not uncomfortable like he thought it would be, and he wouldn't mind to stay like this for a little longer. He lets the spiker know by moving his hands under his arms and around his torso.

“Oikawa.”

Tooru buries his face in Wakatoshi's shoulder. “Mmm?”

“I am heavy,” Wakatoshi says, states the obvious like always.

“Yeah, you are,” Tooru mumbles quietly.

Wakatoshi hears him and tries to get off of him, but Tooru's embrace around him tightens, holding him in place. Wakatoshi can't help but notice how much the man underneath him has gotten stronger during these few months.

“Don't move,” Tooru adds in a childish tone and Wakatoshi can almost feel the shape of his pout on his skin. So Wakatoshi stays still, allows Tooru to enjoy the warmth of his body and, despite the summer, despite all the heat, he finds himself not minding one bit. Well... he minds nothing when it comes to Tooru.

“I need some tissues.”

Wakatoshi knows he's free to stand up when he feels the hold onto him relax, so he does. He takes off the used condom and ties it up. He looks around for his pants and when he finds them, he picks them up and looks for the box of tissues in his pocket. Then, he brings it to the setter, who's now in a sitting position and waiting.

“Here you are,” Wakatoshi offers to him and when Tooru takes the amount he needs, Wakatoshi takes the rest to clean himself up before dressing up. When fully clothed, he walks to the kitchen and throws everything in the trash can and when he turns around, he finds Tooru still in the same position, still very much naked.

The spiker sighs, returns to him and picks up his clothes as well. He puts them on the setter's legs. “You should put your clothes on.”

Tooru chuckles, his usual self back to where it always is. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

Wakatoshi leans forward and kisses him gently, takes him by surprise. Tooru kisses him back, sighing into it. “Not at all.” Tooru laughs lightly and does what Wakatoshi has said. He puts on his briefs and his t-shirt, but he throws the pants away. “I don't need these.”

Wakatoshi goes and picks them up, folds them neatly and puts them on the armchair, reminding the setter to take them to his room when he goes goes to sleep later.

Tooru snorts – he doesn't like to be treated like this. Wakatoshi definitely shouldn't be so nice to him. It makes his stomach feel weird, his blood rush too fast. “Shut up.”

Wakatoshi looks at him, clearly confused.

Tooru reaches out and grabs the hem of his shirt. He pulls him back to the couch. “Lie down,” he says and stands up to let Wakatoshi comply, ignoring the dull ache in his lower back when he straightens up. When the man seems comfortable enough, Tooru climbs on top of him and Wakatoshi welcomes him in his arms.

Wakatoshi appreciates dearly this behavior of Tooru's. He certainly is not a cuddly type of person, and Tooru definitely doesn't want to be cuddled every day and Wakatoshi isn't the type to even ask him when he wants him to. Tooru would never let him hear the end of it. So every Saturday, when Tooru comes to him like this after sex, he does everything he possibly can to make the most of it.

Tooru likes to turn on the TV, watch his favorite shows and lie his head on his chest, under his chin, and Wakatoshi likes to run his hands all over his body; from his shoulders to his back – he _really_ likes to feel the shape of his spine -, to his sides and hips, to his lower back and then all the way up and back to his fluffy hair.

He does this every single time and by now he has memorized every part of the setter. And there is nothing that he doesn't like.

“Your heart is beating fast, Ushiwaka-chan.”

Wakatoshi stops his caresses and focuses on the white ceiling. He feels a tingle under his neck when Tooru turns his head to look up at him. “Is something wrong?”

Wakatoshi doesn't look at him and for a moment, Tooru is worried. “Ushi-”

“I love you, Oikawa.”

Hazel eyes widen and everything around them seems to freeze. They both don't move for a good minute, before Tooru finally exhales and sits up, pinning Wakatoshi underneath him, hands around his shoulders and his legs on each side of him.

He searches that bright gold in front of him, and there is no trace of hesitation or lies... heck, not even embarrassment.

Tooru feels the inside of his mouth incredibly full of his own saliva, so he swallows, before his heart eventually starts to beat faster, making his blood rush in his veins and muscles tremble. He feels a large hand on his cheek and instinctively closes his eyes, leans into the warm touch.

Ushijima Wakatoshi loves him.

Ushijima Wakatoshi _loves_ him.

And then he's lowering his upper body, making their lips meet. It is gentle, chaste, but then Wakatoshi's hand is moving to the back of his head, pulling the setter in deeper, so much deeper. Tooru gasps, opening his mouth and letting Wakatoshi's tongue assault it.

They don't pull away from each other for a while, except to breathe shortly.

Soon, Tooru finds himself with his legs around Wakatoshi's waist and Wakatoshi's hands are under his thighs, and _God,_ it wakes up so much expectation in him, so much desire it's making heat pool inside of his stomach all over again. He doesn't want to speak, his need to cuddle has been replaced with another burning want, much stronger than the one of a half an hour earlier.

He feels his head spinning, and is glad Wakatoshi is offering himself for support.

These last few months, Wakatoshi has done nothing but support him. And not in a way that would make him feel in debt. Tooru feels like he _belongs_ here with him.

He moans.

Wakatoshi's lips are attached to the delicious skin of his neck.

He waits for the next bruise to be placed in the juncture between his neck and shoulder where it was previously missing, before exhaling hard. “Bedroom,” is everything he's able to mutter, his brain too overloaded with feelings and sensations to work properly.

Wakatoshi stands up all of a sudden, Tooru stable in his arms, his legs locked behind him as he holds onto him for dear life. He doesn't let go.

For tonight, he remembers _none_ of his insignificant pride. Was there ever any?

His memories are hazy.

All he wants to focus on is the spiker... Wakatoshi.

Wakatoshi carries him to his bed like he weighs nothing. He leans him on it and Tooru's vision becomes clouded once more.

.

So when they lie on Wakatoshi's bed later, tangled in his thin sheet, Tooru's hand on his bare chest and eyes closed, he thinks of how different it could be if he told him he's starting to feel the same.

Probably.

Definitely.

Wakatoshi's hand is buried in his hair even as he sleeps, and Tooru finds it endearing. So he won't tell him yet. At east not until he's certain about it.

He nuzzles into his neck and finally lets the steady breathing of the man lull him into sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I wasn't expecting to be working on this so soon. But to be honest, I kind of lost my passion for my other fanfiction, so I told myself I would at least try to update both at the same time, so when I get fed up with one, I can keep up with the other.
> 
> But here it is. The second part of three. I can't believe I have managed to get so far without any major gaps, haha. Seriously. 
> 
> Anyway, I really hope you enjoy it - I wanted Ushijima to say "I love you" first, because I believe he definitely would be the one to say it first in a relationship with Oikawa, being the sincere man he is. God, I love him so much. XD
> 
> I am not in college (two more years... I can do it!), so if there are any mistakes, please forgive them - it is already enough of a struggle to follow Japanese school periods. I'm not really made for that. XD
> 
> The inspiration for a tournament between teammates is something that my school inspired me. We have a tournament once a year, everyone vs. everyone, and our teachers usually make the teams with people who seem to fit the best together.
> 
> ***
> 
> For those who haven't read the first part, I invite you to do so, as it will help you understand some parts of this a little bit better. But don't worry, it can also be read as an only piece (though that way it may have some holes in the plot - they shouldn't be too big though).
> 
> ***
> 
> Thank you very much for reading and also a big thank you in advance for all the Comments, Boomarks and Kudos. 
> 
> ***
> 
> If you want to chat with me about UshiOi or any other Oikawa pairing, find me [here](https://twitter.com/mickytaka558) and don't be afraid to send me a message. I will gladly talk to you. 
> 
> See ya at the next update!


	2. Two Wing Spikers with the Eyes of Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wakatoshi's expression doesn't change. “I am telling you, you shouldn't. I have gotten to know you during these last few months, and now I understand that you have no idea of what your limit is. You keep pushing forward without taking care and stop only when you injure yourself.”
> 
> Tooru snaps at those words, feeling wide open in front of the man, to whom he shouldn't show himself this way.
> 
> “I have to be like this! If you want me to be your setter, then I have to reach your level! That's why I can't allow myself to stop!”

Exams come soon.

And with them comes the stress, whether Tooru wants to deal with it or not. It is stronger than him: he doesn't just want to be good at volleyball; he wants to be good at _everything_. Sure, he isn't aiming to reach the top of his class (he leaves that place to the smart girls around him, who apparently have no social life, except on rare Saturday nights, when their friends pull them out of their rooms filled with books, to make them see what fun actually is) but he wants to be within the first twenty on the chart.

He has grown to like biology – sometimes he finds himself staring at his own reflection in the large mirror in the bathroom, wondering how it is possible for his body to look so simple, while also being so incredibly complex.

He also likes psychology, but he can't say he's fond of the other subjects though... Physics, chemistry... He knows they are important (the students surely can't spend their whole school life just practicing – they wouldn't hold up a week, but still...) but he just doesn't like them.

His personal taste aside, he needs to get better: he needs to strengthen his serve, train more with his team to make his tosses as precise as possible – the best. He must make it to the National team. He can't afford himself to lose time.

Not when Wakatoshi is already so far away from him.

.

He starts to spend every little bit of his free time at the gym. Again.

He sometimes finds himself with a bitter taste on his tongue when reminded of the past, when Hajime used to watch over him and tell him when to stop (eventually punching him until he listened).

Initially, Wakatoshi takes his leave as soon as he is done with his session, but Tooru doesn't fail to notice that he starts to wait for him. From a couple of times, it becomes _every_ time. He doesn't speak however. He doesn't order him around and keeps watching Tooru serve over and over, until the setter can barely feel his legs and is forced to go home, trying his best not to limp and show himself weak.

.

One day he screws up.

Wakatoshi notices the setter has literally tripled his training menu; he keeps going long after the others are gone home, the coach included.

He stays countless hours more than them.

And Wakatoshi also never leaves. Tooru ignores him most of the time (not that Wakatoshi tries to make himself noticeable; he just... sits on one of the benches and _stares_ ).

When Tooru lands from his umpteenth jump, the spiker stands up. Hazel eyes immediately move to his figure, looking in a vague interest, waiting for what is to come next.

“It is late, Oikawa.”

Tooru blinks.

“You can go on. I'll come home later,” he tells him, but Wakatoshi makes no sign of movement, his expression as plain but as intense as ever. Tooru takes a hold of the next ball from the cart, holding it tightly between his hands, holding his gaze without making his tiredness take over him – he hopes it won't last long; because if his body cools down, he won't be able to practice anymore for today.

“You should come with me.”

“I said I'll come later.”

Wakatoshi's hands ball into fists.

“You are overworking yourself.”

Tooru's eyes widen.

“ _You're overworking yourself, Shittykawa!”_

An uncomfortable feeling starts to grow in the pit of his stomach. Hajime is the one he sees behind the man, but he isn't here. He is hallucinating – it is slowly starting to get to him, the exhaustion. He closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them again, he is gone.

He looks away, shakes his head.

“Just one more.”

“Oikawa-”

“Just _one_ more!” He speaks louder than he intends to, but it almost comes natural to him, even if he has never dared to yell at Hajime. But, he tells himself, Wakatoshi is _not_ Hajime. He never will be.

Wakatoshi's mouth closes and he sits back down. “I'll be waiting then,” he tells him quietly, but Tooru hears more than well, cursing under his breath – the spiker sure is perceptive.

This means he has one last chance for tonight.

He takes in a deep breath, all his focus now on the ball and the net, and the court. He throws it high in the air, takes the fastest run up he's performed this evening, and jumps. He slams it as hard as he can, making it fly over the net and collide hard against the floor, only to bounce far away and out of bonds.

There is no way any of his teammates could receive this.

He feels pretty confident.

But he screws up: he is so entranced with his action that he forgets to land properly, and instead ends up slipping on a few droplets of his sweat underneath him and falls backwards, falling on his behind with a loud yelp. The impact is strong, and when he opens his eyes, he finds Wakatoshi approaching him fast.

He is in front of him, at his level, in another blink of an eye.

“Ushiwaka-chan?”

“Enough.”

A large hand wraps around Tooru's left arm and Tooru's lips part when he finds himself being pulled up and on his feet. Wakatoshi lets go of him, gold eyes moving down to check if Tooru is having any kind of trouble standing. His legs aren't trembling, nor there seems to be anything swollen for now – though Wakatoshi can't really tell, since his knee pads are in the way.

“I'm fine, don't worry. I just slipped on my own sweat,” Tooru says with a laugh. It is more strained than it should be.

Wakatoshi meets his eyes once again and Tooru doesn't miss the way he is looking at him.

He sighs and waves with his hand, turning to face the cart once again. He pulls out another ball, immediately realizing he doesn't have many left, but as soon as he turns to face the court once more, Wakatoshi slaps the object away from his hands, sending it away.

Tooru glares at him. “What the hell are you-”

“Enough, _Oikawa._ ”

Tooru freezes.

That tone of voice...

Hazel eyes move from the deadly glare, to furrowed brows, to a tense jaw, all of which only adds to the imposing pressure he feels on himself just by standing a step away from him. He swallows, relaxes his shoulders and doesn't look at the cart again.  
Wakatoshi makes him stretch, and is careful to supervise every single move he makes, while also picking up every single ball Tooru has sent around the court, before hiding it away from him inside of the storage room. Tooru is on his feet by the time he is finished with locking it up, muscles cooled down, and waiting.

The spiker approaches him, only to lead him in the locker room. Tooru finds himself being ordered to sit on one of the benches but, despite his confusion, he obeys. He freezes when Wakatoshi follows him and kneels down in front of him with a weird expression on his face.

His hands move towards his legs and Tooru's breath hitches in his throat when he feels them grabbing his knee supporter, sliding it down his leg gently and exposing his knee. He says nothing. Even when Wakatoshi starts to run his hands over it, trying to feel with his fingertips if there is any part of it that is swollen, or if it hurts.

Tooru sits still as a rock, a tired and yet somehow peaceful expression on his face.

Wakatoshi looks up and sees just how much sleep the setter needs.

He sighs, straightens up and walks to the other's bag. He takes out clean clothes and tells him to change, which Tooru does – very slowly – and when everything seems to be alright, he walks out with him.

The walk home is spent in silence, but Tooru feels the tense atmosphere floating around them and he's almost afraid of what is to come when they enter their apartment. One thing is sure... Wakatoshi is not pleased and, being the way he is, he is not going to keep his thoughts hidden for long.

The worst of all, though, is that his body is growing weaker than it is supposed to be – maybe it is because of the surprisingly chilly evening. Or maybe it is because of the rain that should fall onto them any moment now.

They make it home in time.

The first drops start falling when they switch on the lights in their living room. Tooru watches it for a while, until Wakatoshi is in front of him and stealing his attention away.

“I shall prepare you a bath and then you are going to tell me what you want to eat. You are going to sleep after you finish your meal.”

Tooru finds the amount of orders extremely irritating.

“So now you want to command me too? I don't need you to babysit me,” he says pointing at him with his finger. He will not take that from him.

Wakatoshi furrows his eyebrows and approaches him slowly, only to stop when Tooru's fingertip is pressed against his shoulder – Tooru pulls away immediately, as if he was burning.

“I have no intention of being your babysitter, Oikawa. I am _not_ Iwaizumi Hajime, but I will not allow you to do anything stupid enough to hurt yourself.”

Tooru feels something tear in his chest, and it lets rage out of a cage too full of it, partially by the fact that he's so angry with himself and his weaknesses, partially because Wakatoshi is playing God and believes he knows everything that needs to be known, but mostly... He is angry because in five months, he hasn't heard a word of Hajime.

When he speaks to his mother on the phone, she tells him he's fine – he even comes to visit at times, to make sure she doesn't need anything. And Tooru doesn't have the heart to tell her that, while his best friend is taking care of her, he is completely ignoring him.

Still, he can't let this pass like nothing.

He grits his teeth, narrows his eyes and throws himself at the wing spiker, taking a tight hold of the collar of his shirt and using all his strength to pull him closer, despite the mass of muscles he is made of.

“What the _fuck_ does Iwa-chan have to do with this now?! Don't you dare pull him in when there is no reason to do it! If I want to practice more, then I will! It is my _fucking_ decision!” he yells on top of his lungs, the hand gripping the cloth shaking violently before he groans and pulls away, turning around.

Wakatoshi's expression doesn't change. “I am telling you, _you shouldn't_. I have gotten to know you during these last few months, and now I understand that you have no idea of what your limit is. You keep pushing forward without taking care and stop only when you injure yourself.”

Tooru snaps at those words, feeling wide open in front of the man, to whom he shouldn't show himself this way.

“I have to be like this! If you want me to be your setter, then I _have_ to reach your level! That's why I can't allow myself to stop!”

Wakatoshi blinks. Tooru has turned a shade darker; partially because of the burning rage he's letting out, partially from the embarrassment of having to confess his discomfort out loud.

The spiker sighs, taking a step towards him.

“It is not needed from you. The team hasn't got any particular weak spots that you should be able to make up for. Besides, I don't have any use of you if you are forced to stay out of a game because of your carelessness.” Wakatoshi's voice is extremely deep, almost peaceful, but every single word is hitting Tooru like a bullet, right into his chest. And then Wakatoshi's eyes are meeting his once again. “Apparently, you seem to have forgotten the most fundamental thing.”

Tooru grits his teeth after rolling his eyes. He just doesn't know when to stop, does he?

“And _what_ would that be?!”

“You are not in Seijō anymore. I am the ace you must rely on, and your teammates are on a whole new level; that is why you should not put any burden on your shoulders.”

Even though Tooru wants so badly to reply to the umpteenth insult to his old team, he just can't find the right words to do so, and ends up snorting and heading towards the door of the hall. When he walks past the spiker, he mumbles a “you and your arrogance piss me of,” which he makes sure is loud enough for Wakatoshi to hear.

He stops I his tracks when his hand is on the handle and he turns to look back at the spiker. “You have to prepare my bath, Ushiwaka-chan,” he tells him, in a voice Wakatoshi has since long recognized as fake.

Wakatoshi's shoulders relax and his expression seems to soften, even if just a little bit, and then he is following. Tooru stops by his room to pick up some clothes he can sleep in later and then reaches the other in the bathroom.

Wakatoshi has already turned on the water and is proceeding to pour in it all the gel he needs to obtain the thousands of bubbles Tooru likes. When he hears the shuffle of clothes behind him, he moves away, gold eyes moving onto the setter's tired body and then on his face.

Tooru isn't looking at him.

His gaze is low, mouth shut tight.

Wakatoshi realizes he might have said something wrong.

He stands by the tub as Tooru enters, wanting to make sure he doesn't slip because of his tiredness – he really doesn't want to see him falling like before – and when he is settled comfortably, surrounded by hot water, Wakatoshi sighs. He approaches the tub once more and crouches next to it, to be on Tooru's same height.

He still isn't looking at him.

“Oikawa.”

Only when he calls him, does Tooru turn his face towards him, hazel eyes hesitantly meeting his and waiting for him to continue.

Wakatoshi doesn't like it when he is so down.

“If you toss to _me_ like you did in your last match of the Spring High, the results are going to be different; you will not receive another disappointment.”

He is already so strong, _a monster_ like some of his teammates say when he performs his serves or some of the craziest tosses. Wakatoshi has hit all of them successfully until now, without any difficulty.

A large hand moves to the setter's shoulder, patting him gently before he straightens up, ready to leave him alone with his thoughts.

Tooru is now staring at him wide-eyed, but when the other man is about to turn around, he finally wakes up from his daze and reaches out for his wrist. He doesn't grab it, only brushes it with the tip of his fingers, and it is enough for him to stop and return his attention where it belongs.

“Do you want to join me?”

Frankly, Tooru doesn't know why he is asking this – the tub is definitely too small for both of them to be perfectly comfortable... But it wouldn't be the first time he would have to stay a little more crouched than he is supposed to. He has done this with Hajime plenty of times – most of them happening after heavy losses.

It felt...

Normal.

But with Wakatoshi? He has never even thought about it.

In fact, the spiker seems to consider his words carefully, probably even waiting for Tooru to change his mind, but the setter has chosen his words instinctively; he isn't planning to take them back.

Wakatoshi picks up the scattered clothes on the floor and puts them into the chest of dirty laundry and only then does he proceed to take off his clothes too. If it was a better day, Tooru would probably look at him with a malicious smile, tease him a couple of times until the other would come to him and make his mind black out, but that is not the case in this very moment, so Tooru limits himself to pull his legs to his chest and wait.

Wakatoshi steps in after a little less than a minute and sits on the opposite side.

Tooru is pleased to find out they are not forced to stay too crouched, but then, this tub is larger than the one he has at home. He lets go of his legs a little.

This is definitely weird.

Wakatoshi is sitting still like a rock, saying no word whatsoever, and Tooru can't help but feel uncomfortable. He it about to open his mind to shatter the horrible silence, but he stops when Wakatoshi leans his upper body forward. His hands come in contact with his right knee and Tooru's breath hitches in his throat.

Rough fingers run over every single part of it, a simple gesture that makes so many memories flood Tooru's mind. He feels so exposed and vulnerable, even though Wakatoshi is only checking out if there is anything out of place. Tooru hopes there isn't.

It is a relief when he feels no pain during the examination, and when Wakatoshi pulls away, he exhales.

Gold moves on his face and Tooru looks away.

He can't take this kind of gaze on him. What was he even thinking when he asked him to join him? The exhaustion must be having its effect on him. _Dammit._

In the end, the heaviness of those strict eyes becomes to heavy to bear and Tooru decides to shift. He turns around and moves around carefully, trying not to splash the water all over the place, and slides back until his back if leaned onto Wakatoshi's broad chest.

If Wakatoshi is surprised by the action, he doesn't show it. Instead, an arm wraps itself around Tooru's waist, pulling him even closer, while the other one moves forward, until the hand is able to place itself on his always threatened right knee.

Tooru's cheeks heat up and he is more than sure this isn't the water's doing.

As the minutes go by, Tooru finds himself letting go: his head falls back and onto a muscled shoulder, his legs spread forward as much as they are allowed, forcing Wakatoshi's hand to slide on the soft skin of his thigh.

Tooru closes his eyes, lets out a quiet hum when Wakatoshi takes a hold of his left hand and brings it to his lips. He kisses it gently, as if it was going to break any second. “You still have that thing for my hands?” He _still_ finds it ironic, the way Wakatoshi can be so gentle when he is the kind of person he is. Strong and merciless on court, and yet...

He looks to his side without moving his head, finds Wakatoshi's eyes closed as he kisses every knuckle and fingertip with the same carefulness. It has indeed been a while since the last time he did this.

Tooru wonders why he found himself missing it at times.

***

Wakatoshi soon understands that, even though he manages to make the setter calm down every once in a while, the situation is not getting better. The bags under hazel eyes are dark; his slumber is often interrupted by nightmares of which Wakatoshi is not the protagonist anymore.

He understands that it is hard to make old habits go away, but at least Tooru doesn't kill himself at practice. When Wakatoshi tells him to stop, he does, as if that last time had been enough. He makes him eat properly at every meal, makes sure he sleeps as much as he can afford himself with the full schedule they are both bound by.

He hopes it will be enough.

_***_

On July 20th, Tooru wakes up only to find himself alone in his bed. He remembers studying till late at night; he remembers Wakatoshi coming out from his bedroom and ordering him to go to sleep; he remembers getting angry and shutting himself inside of his bedroom and throwing himself on the bed without much care after stripping of all of his clothes _because it was so damn hot_ -

He closed his eyes after that.

But he still remembers a light caress on the back of his head before he fell into a dreamless and _stressful_ sleep.

In fact, this morning he feels like shit – had he avoided going to sleep, he would probably be in a better shape than he is in now. He sits up slowly, eyes looking around for his flatmate, but not finding a trace of him.

He gets up on his feet, picks up the clothes from the floor and wears them. He has no time to choose something fresh and have a shower, as the clock is telling him that in less than forty minutes one of the most important exams of the semester is going to take place.

He feels his stomach twist painfully, giving birth to a sickening feeling that makes him want to throw up right here, right now.

He walks out of the bedroom and heads into the bathroom, where he splashes cold water in his face. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and he curses himself for reducing himself into a mess because of a little bit of stress – he's been through so much worse in the past, so this shouldn't be too much of an issue.

He returns to the bedroom, where he changes into clean clothes – he would love to have a shower, but he'd rather spend his half-an-hour to revise whatever he can of his notes.

He heads to the kitchen, ready to greet his spiker, but his mouth drops open without sound when he finds out he is alone. There is no trace of Wakatoshi anywhere in the house, but when his eyes move onto the counter, he finds his breakfast ready. He approaches it, takes a hold on the notebook he left here and sits down. His latte is still warm, just the way he likes – no summer heat will ever make him change his mind about that.

He looks around; there is no note, no anything to let him know where Wakatoshi has gone or if he is going to back before Tooru is supposed to leave for his first lesson.

His gaze moves on his phone, which is lying next to yesterday's newspaper. He clicks on the main button and the screen lightens up, showing dozens of text alerts.

He lazily scrolls down through them.

Some of them are from the first-years from Aobajōsai (well, now they are second years, he figures).

Some from his fan girls.

Some from his old classmates.

Tobio.

His sister.

His mother.

His father.

Takahiro.

Issei.

Tooru exhales shakily.

There is no Hajime. No Iwa-chan _at all_.

And it's weird – he has never forgotten about his birthday before.

For the first time, Tooru feels like crying on what has always been his special day.

.

Tooru is fairly certain he has done well in the test. He must wait until next week to find out though, but he can't deny that it has left him quite tired; if he didn't have practice, he would be heading home and back to sleep.

When he enters the gym, Kōtarō assaults him mercilessly with a bear hug. Tooru yelps in surprise, but immediately relaxes when he hears him yelling a loud “happy birthday!” in his ear.

Tetsurō is walking behind him, his trademarking grin plastered on his face.

“Happy birthday, Oikawa.”

Tooru forces himself to smile, because he definitely wasn't expecting this.

Thank you, Kō-chan, Tetsu-chan.”

Behind them, Satori is staring at him with a playful grin. He later wishes him well too.

Once practice begins, Tooru realizes Wakatoshi is not here. And it is strange.

Wakatoshi _never_ misses practice.

“Where's Ushiwaka-chan?” he asks his teammates, but they all shrug, not knowing the answer.

Tooru texts him during the first break, but receives no replies in return. He pouts, takes a long sip from his bottle of water, and then returns on the court to practice on his serve.

_._

As if today wasn't already bad enough, Tooru's boss calls him to ask him to come to work today, as one of his coworkers has gotten sick and asked to be replaced. Tooru tries to find an excuse, but his boss's wavering voice makes him crumble in the end.

He finds himself wondering how can someone possibly get sick in the middle of summer.

So after two more hours of practice, he heads to work after a quick shower in the changing rooms. He is definitely not at his best, but his shift should last only two hours, so he should do fine.

When he enters the café, he finds it full of people; his eyes manage to spot Yume, his coworker, behind the counter with an apologetic smile on her face.

“I'm sorry my father has made you come today, but Shiraki-san is really in a bad condition,” she tells him. He just waves his hand and puts his best smile on his face. “Don't worry about it.”

It's not like he had plans.

Not at all.

Well, except going to see the planetarium.

He has been wanting to go there ever since he got off of the train that brought him here.

And he has even managed to convince his boss to give him a day off.

And yet-

He puts on his apron and exchanges places with the girl. Immediately lots of female customers arrive in front of him, order their drinks in the 'cutest' way possible, making impossible efforts to flirt with them. And even though Tooru usually finds it extremely amusing, this time he just wants it to stop.

But he can't yell at all of them.

When he finishes serving every single college girl in the bar, he decides to check his phone one more time.

His eyes burn.

_No new messages._

.

Kōtarō flies into the bar an hour before the end of Tooru's shift. He is grinning widely, gold eyes shining so brightly Tooru finds himself staring a little bit too much.

“What are you doing here? Wasn't today your day off?”

Tooru sighs, exhausted by the unpleasant reminder. “It should have been...” His voice is quiet, and Koutarou doesn't fail to notice. He sits at the counter. “That sucks, man.”

Tooru doesn't say anything in return, so Kōtarō tilts his head to the side. “I'll keep you company until the end of your shift,” he tells him and smiles. Tooru feels his chest hurting a little bit less for the first time today. He prepares him his favorite drink, tells him it's on the house.

“Where is Tetsu-chan?”

“He has some errands to run.”

Tooru doesn't ask anymore.

.

When his boss tells him he is free to go, Tooru decides to stay. He and Kōtarō move to one of the free tables, as Yume walks to them and brings them their drinks. Tooru is pleased to notice his latte is accompanied by one of their chocolate muffins. He loves the match, so he makes sure to enjoy the small joy in front of him.

Kōtarō is in front of him, his glowing presence makes him feel warm all over. The spiker is reassuring- not like Hajime has always been, maybe even less than Wakatoshi, but he definitely makes him feel at ease. Tooru is more than certain that, when they get to know each other even more, it will get better and better.

“Thanks for being here,” the setter says.

Gold eyes blink.

“Ushiwaka-chan hasn't even wished me a happy birthday before leaving this morning. I don't even know where he is.”

“Maybe he's preparing you some kind of surprise!”

Tooru lets out a laugh at that. “Ushiwaka-chan? Yeah, right. I see you don't know him well enough yet.” He keeps laughing at that. The white-haired boy just stares at him.

“I know he cares about you. A lot.”

Tooru stops, hazel eyes widening.

“Did he say something to you?”

“Well, no... But it doesn't take a genius to understand you aren't just a normal person to him. You've been dating-”

“We're not dating!”

Kōtarō raises an eyebrow.

Tooru feels exposed. Too exposed. His negation felt so wrong... But people shouldn't forget the birthday of the person they love. Why is he feeling guilty after something so trivial? It is all Wakatoshi's fault... “It's been four months...” he mumbles after a while, his cheeks dusted with pink.

“I know that.”

Tooru shakes his head, wanting to dismiss this conversation as soon as possible, but as Kōtarō doesn't back down, he moves to stand up. “I should-”

“No, you shouldn't.” Kōtarō grabs both his wrists and pulls him back down. Tooru flinches, definitely surprised, but Koutarou points at the unfinished muffin and his still half full cup of latte. “You didn't finish those.” His strong hands linger on Tooru's skin some more, before they pull away.

Tooru stares at his burning skin for a moment, before he sighs and takes a sip of his drink.

“Let's _not_ talk about Ushiwaka-chan. I'm really not in the mood for this.”

Kōtarō shrugs.

They talk about the upcoming tournament.

“You can count on me,” Kōtarō tells him. “And on Kuroo too.”

Tooru smiles.

.

It is already getting dark outside when Tooru and Kōtarō stop talking. The setter is glad he was able to spend some time to get to know better the spiker he has wanted for so long.

Kōtarō is certainly not disappointing him.

“Hey, I have something for you. I almost forgot about it.”

Tooru's eyes widen at those words.

Kōtarō pulls out a small box from his pocket and puts it on the table, right in front of the other.

Tooru stares at it for a moment, not knowing what to say. “What is this?” he manages to mumble after a while, and Kōtarō's grin is everything he is able to focus on.

“It's from me and Kuroo. We wanted to give it to you together, but it seems he's busier than he thought he would be.”

“Shut up, Bokuto. I'm here,” Tetsurō says, coming from behind him. “Move, I wanna sit down.” Kōtarō moves to the side, making space for the middle blocker to sit next to him.

Tooru can't help but notice that he is tired, pretty much like himself, but he's still wearing that sneaky grin, so he must be alright, after all. His attention focuses back on the small box.

“Come on, open it.”

Tooru does so. Slowly.

When the box is unwrapped and opened, it reveals a key-chain of a volleyball mascot; the same one Tooru has always worn attached to his school bag when he was still in Aobajōsai. His mouth gapes open as he takes it out and holds it in his hands.

He can't help but think about the other one, the one that Hajime gave him so long ago.

He forgot to bring it with himself, so it should be somewhere in the back of his closet at his parents' house.

“Umm... We didn't really know what to get you, but you like volleyball like us, so-”

“It's perfect,” Tooru interrupts. “Thank you.”

He immediately pulls out the keys from the pocket of his pants and attaches it to one of the rings holding them together. Once it is fixed properly, he grins, satisfied. He is going to take care of this one for a very long time.

“Do you want to drink something, Tetsu-chan?”

Tetsurō shakes his head. “Nah, I came here to get Bokuto so we can go home together. I am exhausted.”

“You sound like an old man.”

“Shut up, you stupid owl.”

Kōtarō punches his shoulder slightly before they both look back at Tooru, who is staring at them, almost interested in the small bickering in front of him.

“What?” Tetsurō asks.

Tooru chuckles and then shakes his head. He has always been so good at reading people, at finding out just everything about them, even the things they don't want him to know. These two are no exception, though their weirdness sometimes limits all of Tooru's abilities. “I wonder who's going to top tonight,” he says in a sing-song voice.

The two blink, and then start laughing.

“Go home, Oikawa.”

“I'm betting on Kō-chan,” he says in return and Kōtarō gives him thumbs up, with an even wider grin.

They exit the café together and then part ways.

.

Tooru arrives at home some time past 9.00 pm. He finds all the lights turned on, and instinctively looks around. He finds Wakatoshi standing up from the couch and turning to look at him.

“You are home,” the deep voice says.

Tooru shuts the door behind himself and looks away. “Yes, I am,” he says coldly, very essentially – he doesn't like to waste his precious voice for someone who hasn't even given him a glance on his own birthday.

“Are you angry?”

Tooru is more than angry. However, he doesn't reply, and instead heads into the kitchen and grabs a fresh package of milk bread from one of the cupboards. He opens it harshly and takes a bite, before making his way back and heading to his room.

Before he can reach the door of the hall, Wakatoshi stands in front of him, gold eyes piercing his.

“Oikawa.”

Tooru refuses to look back at him. “Move.”

But Wakatoshi doesn't.

He stands still, until Tooru loses his patience and finally looks up. “What do you want?”

“You are angry.”

Tooru snorts.

“Is it my fault?”

“Of course it's your fault, you idiot!” he snaps. Wakatoshi winces slightly, before composing himself once more and daring to reach out with his hand to place it on the setter's shoulder. Tooru shakes him off and is about to walk past him, but Wakatoshi blocks him, this time anchoring both of his hands to his arms.

Tooru struggles to break free, but Wakatoshi's grip is stronger.

“Today's my birthday,” he says quietly, voice shaky and hands clenched into fists.

“Today's my birthday, and you forgot about it.”

“Oikawa-”

“I told you so many times! I thought you-”

“I _didn't_ forget,” Wakatoshi interrupts, pulling the setter closer. Tooru gasps in surprise, but lets himself be dragged forward. “Then why did you ignore me for the whole day?” Wakatoshi sighs and turns around. He motions him to follow, and walks to the door of the hall. “I was preparing your birthday present.”

“M-my birthday present?” He looks around, but sees no colorful box or anything particular, like it used to be when Hajime was his only world. There is nothing familiar in this, and after all these months, there should be.

“Come with me.”

Wakatoshi leads him to the closed door of his room. They stop in front of it, and Wakatoshi asks him to close his eyes. It is unusual for Wakatoshi to beat around the bush, but Tooru finds himself not caring at all, because curiosity and eagerness are devouring him.

A large hand is places over his eyes, making sure hazel won't peek before the time is right.

Tooru feels the door opening, feels Wakatoshi slowly leading him in, and the first thing that hits him is a strange smell. A smell of... paint.

“Ushiwaka-chan, what have you done to my-”

“You can look.”

Tooru opens his eyes and blinks a couple of times. But, other than the smell, he doesn't see any source of it. He doesn't understand why Wakatoshi is not turning on the lights. “You should look up at the ceiling,” Wakatoshi tells him.

Tooru does.

And hazel eyes lose themselves in the brightness of glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling, in the countless stars _painted_ on the once plain, white ceiling. His favorite constellations, among with dozens and dozens of other stars... So realistic it feels like he is being outside, in a field in Miyagi, and watching the stars above him.

“You... You did this?”

He doesn't mode his eyes off of it.

“I came to know you had something similar at home.”

Tooru's breath hitches in his throat. At home, he had glow-in-the-dark stars made of cheap plastic, glued randomly around the place. He remembers receiving them for his sixth birthday, and remembers talking Hajime into putting them up together.

But this... This is not measurable with that.

“How... You...”

Tooru turns around, mouth trying to formulate coherent works, but the amount of shock and happiness and _happiness_ floods through every part of him and prevents him to do so.

“Happy birthday, Oikawa.”

Before Wakatoshi has the time to add anything else, Tooru's arms are thrown around his neck, as the setter pulls him in a tight embrace, while muttering quiet thank you-s over and over. Wakatoshi feels something wet on his shoulder, and it doesn't take him long to realize Tooru is crying. He wonders if he did something wrong, but the kiss that follows lets him know he has done everything just right.

“Can I sleep in your room tonight? I could die intoxicated if I stay in here tonight.”

Wakatoshi doesn't deny him his request.

When Tooru goes to the bathroom to wash himself, Wakatoshi returns to the living room and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He replies to Tetsurou's text, tells him it all went perfectly and thanks him for helping him out for the whole afternoon. He also tells him to thank Koutarou too, for holding Tooru back so flawlessly.

And then he sends one last text, thanks Iwaizumi Hajime for helping him out with the choice of the present.

When Tooru comes out, clean clothes on and a towel wrapped around his neck, Wakatoshi gives him his full attention. Tooru approaches the couch and climbs onto Wakatoshi's lap and kisses him deeply. Wakatoshi doesn't hesitate to kiss back, and with his hands brings the towel to wipe soft, brown locks dry.

Tooru hums against his lips.

“I am hungry, Ushiwaka-chan. You'd better have something ready for me.”

Wakatoshi lets him know he has already ordered his favorite pizza and has prepared a chocolate cake, that's waiting in the fridge for after dinner.

Tooru kisses him again and swears he is going to make up for all of it.

***

After that, the time seems to fly, and in a blink of an eye, the day of the match arrives.

Tooru is in the gym two hours before everyone else, at six in the morning. He just couldn't sleep and ended up slipping out of bed and come here. He isn't practicing, no.

He is just... Standing in the center of the court, the net in front of him, and is watching the other side, where his upperclassmen are soon going to be.

The gym looks so big when no one is here; every noise, every movement pierces into Tooru's brain every time, and it builds that intense anxiety and nervousness he remembers having before every single match in high school. He remembers feeling this way when Tobio entered his life, when Karasuno stood in his way, when Shiratorizawa crushed him.

His hands are shaking.

Suddenly, the main door opens, and he turns around. Hazel eyes find the figure of Wakatoshi not far away from him.

“Why are you already here, Oikawa?”

Tooru swallows. He doesn't really know...

“I... I like to stay alone before a match. It helps me to think.”

“The first match won't start before eight.”

“I know,” Tooru says and turns around to face the empty side of the court. His stomach is aching – not a positive sign.

Wakatoshi observes him: the stiffness of his shoulders, the trembling of his hands... He doesn't like the way he looks like. He takes a step forward, and then another, and another... Until he reaches him; until they are standing side by side, with a minimal distance between them.

“I want to win...” Tooru whispers, but Wakatoshi hears. And he also wants to win, because if they do, then Tooru's place in the National team is going to be assured, and he will be able to play with him even more.

He wants that.

So much.

“ _Toss to me_ ,” he replies, and Tooru understands, feels himself encouraged a little bit.

.

They win the first match.

And the second.

On the third day, Tooru's team made of first-years is about to face the seniors. Tooru can't help but realize they are much bigger when standing on the other side of the net – most of them of Wakatoshi's size or higher. But still...

He isn't afraid.

Wakatoshi's presence is reassuring, and so is all the others', so strong and intense that Tooru wonders if it would have been like this, had they been on the same team. He wonders what victory could have tasted like. He hopes he is about to find out now.

As expected, the seniors are strong – they immediately score consecutive points, but thanks to one of Satori's blocks, Tooru receives the chance to take them back, as it is his turn to serve. He had predicted a beginning like this, and that's why he decided to get in the back line so early.

He serves the first time, slams the ball so hard it hits beautifully the corner of the opposite part of the field, giving his team the first point. He scores two more times after that, before the libero finally receives. But it bounces off hard and comes towards them, giving them the perfect chance to show what they have got.

Both, Wakatoshi and Koutarou jump, and Tooru decides to toss to the latter. They score, because the opposite team doesn't expect it. Tooru can hear comments coming from his other teammates, whom they managed to beat, and they say only a fool wouldn't toss to Wakatoshi.

He always scores, after all.

And yet, Tooru knows better... He knows he needs to save him for the time when they are going to be panicking. Because they will.

But even though their opponents are strong, they are doing well. Tetsurō and Hayato receive every ball like their lives depend on them, Satori listens to him and his suggestions – Tooru is pleased to know they are both sadistic bastards, who love picking on their opponents; Tooru likes him a little more now – Kōtarō jumps and spikes like Tooru has always wanted him to (even when they were in different teams, and all the setter could do was to crave for a spiker like him), and Wakatoshi...

Tooru believes he has never seen him playing like this.

Of course, this is their first “official” match together, but Tooru has not ever seen him play like this even when they faced each other. It is almost painful to know Wakatoshi is even more skilled and powerful than people thing. For some reason, despite his insignificant pride, he feels relieved.

He tosses to him – a high toss, the one where he scores best.

Hazel eyes widen when he jumps and he can't help but think his form is beautiful. And then he is slamming it down on the other side of the net, making it bounce off the floor and high in the air.

The first set is theirs; they need one more to become the winners.

The seniors look pissed off, because apparently this is the first time a bunch of first-years is doing this to them.

They make full use of their five-minute break – they drink as much as they can, wipe away the sweat gathered on their faces... Tooru makes sure to tell them about the mistakes he noticed in the opposite team, lets them know how to behave. They listen to him quietly, and when he is done speaking, an unexpected silence meets him.

Hazel eyes blink a couple of times, before he realizes he is completely taking charge in a team of six people, out of which four of them used to be captains.

He swallows, ready to hear them complain or something, but then Tetsurō is slapping his shoulder gently. “Let's get this over with. If we win, I want some pizza – and the captain's paying, of course.”

Tooru's breath hitches in his throat.

_Captain?_

Wakatoshi is already on his feet and looking down at him, his eyes all but menacing. “Let's go,” he says, and Tooru leads them back.

“ _I'll be counting on you then._ ”

They lose the second set. As expected, the seniors are not going to let them have their easy win.

Halfway into the third set, Tooru tells himself to calm down. He realizes his teammates' trust is not to be seen as a burden. He learns their strengths and his tosses become even more precise, even more unique in type, adjusted to every single one of them.

He serves with all the viciousness he is capable to pull out from his desperate desire to win. And he keeps scoring. Wakatoshi keeps scoring. Kōtarō keeps scoring. The other watch his back, receive what he can't reach out to, block large players...

They reach their match point first, the other team only one point behind.

But they can win this.

It is Kōtarō's turn to serve, and he does. It goes to the other side, but is received almost perfectly. Fortunately, Satori manages to block the next spike, but is still goes to their side of the net. Tetsurō raises it up, passes it to Tooru.

Hazel eyes meet Wakatoshi's gold for a brief moment, and he knows.

The spiker is running, jumping.

It is the perfect placement.

Tooru tosses.

Wakatoshi scores their winning point.

The other team doesn't even manage to react, the speed of their combo too fast to read. Tooru is briefly remembering the overwhelming freak duo he faced last year, and he...

His team runs behind him, pulling him into a tight hug. They drag him to where Wakatoshi is standing and pull him in too. Tooru starts to laugh at the mix of confusion and shock on his face, and he can't help but tell him to relax.

They won.

Together.

Tooru's arms wrap around his middle blockers, as Kōtarō decides to throw himself first at Hayato and then at Wakatoshi – once again, he receives the affectionate action in such a funny way that Tooru just can't hold back.

They line up in front of the net, shake hands with their seniors as if it was an official match, listen to coach's proud words and then leave.

Tooru pays for their dinner that night and, for the first time in a while, feels like nothing is missing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very well, here is another chapter for you.
> 
> Thank you so much reading until now - I am so happy to read all the lovely comments you leave here.
> 
> I was really craving for another fragmented chapter, though here the fragments are quite long. I hope you like the development until now, because I can't wait to go on with it.
> 
> I am sorry to let you know that my updates won't be as frequent as they have been during summer. My teachers are literally crazy and are putting us through countless tests, which don't leave me much time to write. But I'll be doing my best from now on! Don't worry: this story won't go on hiatus. I will make sure of that - I have too many ideas on my mind to be able to keep them in.
> 
> ***
> 
> Thank you in advance for all the lovely Comments, Kudos and Bookmarks! It means a lot to me to have your support. I'll see ya at the next update! :)


	3. Bad Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hajime lets out a strangled laugh. “And what is good for me? I'm being a total dick to my best friend, I don't deserve anything good.” Kōshi slaps him gently. “Don't say that! You care about him more than you care about yourself. You are only making bad decisions.”
> 
> Hajime looks at him again. “Bad decisions you say?”
> 
> “You have to decide: either reply to his texts and mend everything that broke down when he left, or block his number and move on,” Kōshi explains and Hajime can't help but agree with him. He must make his choice right now, or it will haunt him for a long time after this.

Five months without Tooru were not supposed to be _this_ hard.

Or at least, this is what Hajime keeps telling himself over and over, whenever he finds himself thinking about him. And that happens way too often for his taste, especially because it is something he absolutely doesn't need – when he receives a text or a call, or whenever he comes in contact with something that has even an imperceptible connection to the idiot. And it is stronger than him.

He has always thought he would be at peace when the constant whining, the alien obsession and volleyball, along with the usual “Iwa-chan”, would cease.

He isn't pleased to know he has gotten it all wrong.

When he decided to break all the contacts with him, he did so to forget. And yet, it is not happening. His feelings just don't want to stick into a deep, hidden corner of his mind and never reappear again, and instead keep popping up, each time stronger than before, at times when Hajime is the most vulnerable.

They make it hurt.

They make it hurt like hell; much more than the losses the two have been through did, much more than the time Tooru got hurt for the first time and pushed Hajime away for two weeks... The worst thing is the fact that there is no way to make it stop.

Hajime has started to wonder why he is doing this, both to himself and to the setter.

It is not Tooru's fault (it has _never_ been Tooru's fault); only his own.

Tooru has tried to contact him so many times, if the hundreds of texts saved on his phone are any kind of proof, and every time, Hajime has been too much of a coward to reply to any of them, to answer his calls, and face his feelings at their full strength.

His weakness makes him regret letting go.

He should have never done that.

He should have been more selfish, like Tooru had told him to be, and should have taken him away from Wakatoshi when his chance was still there. He keeps telling himself he let go for Tooru's good, but he finds himself doubting his words more often than not.

Tooru was fine when he was with him.

Hajime had always made sure to make him happy.

But after he receives his latest texts, he understands Wakatoshi is not just after Tooru's volleyball skills; they are only the reason he has started to look at him with interest, but as soon as Tooru let him in, he understood there is so much more to him than just his abilities as a setter.

Despite his anger and jealousy, Hajime is glad.

At least _one_ of them is happy.

However, staying in Sendai is not as bad as Hajime thought it would be in the beginning, but his lifestyle is not much different than it was before, except for the obvious lack of pampering he used to do until now. Though, he has his family not far away, his lessons and studies take most of his time during the day and don't let him think too much, and what is left is consumed by volleyball and his _friends_.

He was looking for an apartment in summer, wanting to live closer to campus, but as the prices in the center of the city are quite high, he found himself looking for a flatmate too.

He found _two_.

Sawamura Daichi and Sugawara Kōshi.

The two of them are an incredible blessing in his life – they both understood everything when Hajime mentioned Tooru for the first time; he didn't really feel like keeping away the truth from them – he also needed to vent when they asked why he and Tooru are not together anymore.

They still help him out, pull him out of their apartment when he starts thinking too much, find ways to help him relax when there are too many contents for him to study – being a first-year medicine student too, Kōshi understands, so he gives his best to make him feel better. At times, Hajime is reminded of his parents, but he always repays them, in one way or another.

He doesn't mind being cuddled like this. He supposes he has kind of earned his right to relax and be pampered after all the pampering he did himself.

Thought the people are different.

Of course, with the two ex-members of Karasuno's volleyball team comes the rest of them. Azumane Asahi is someone with whom Hajime has gotten used to spend time almost every day. He finds it hilarious how the giant and fearsome-looking ace is actually one of the kindest people he has ever had the pleasure to meet.

So unlike Tooru.

He is also able to spend more time with the freak duo, the crazy libero.., Since all of them come to visit their captain and vice, seeking for advice and help...

It is nice, being able to talk to Tobio without receiving angry glares and childish whines. He is actually a nice guy (not that Hajime has ever doubted it), simple but sincere. If Tooru wasn't the type to hate geniuses, he would have certainly liked him. Tobio is incredibly simple, straightforward and sincere; Hajime likes him a lot. He is also able to translate all the weird noises the libero makes when he is not able to describe with words how... something... is something else.

From what Hajime understands, lots of them are going to follow their senpai's path. None of them holds any grudges for their former high school rivalry, victories and losses, and Hajime is not the type to hold grudges either. Instead, they sometimes find themselves talking about old games and funny facts happened during practice.

Yet, it feels so strange... This peace...

While on weekends they go out, on weekdays the three of them like to place themselves on the couch, turn on the TV and spend the evening eating whatever Kōshi makes for dinner and dessert – Hajime has found out he is a brilliant cook on their first evening together. He is glad he doesn't have to be in charge at everything anymore.

They have split their roles in the house. Kōshi takes care of the cooking, Daichi does the shopping and handles the bills, while Hajime makes sure to keep the place clean. The laundry is the only thing they take turns for, and it's easy, since they have made a little plan to avoid getting confused.

It is nothing much; their lives revolve around simple things, very unusual for Hajime's standards, but it works.

It is routine.

***

Tonight, even though it is Saturday, all three of them are making an exception and stay home; they know the new entries of the National team are about to be announced - they have been waiting for the sports news ever since they finished dinner, and have no intention whatsoever to miss them.

Hajime is sitting on the armchair, muscles tense, while Daichi and Kōshi are comfortable in the couch. Hajime has always seen the two as a nice couple and has gotten to know their dynamics very fast – they fit perfectly together, and as much as he is glad for them, he-

He blinks, focuses on the TV when he hears the tune announcing the beginning of sports' news.

As expected, the so awaited announcement is the first thing they talk about. They show the oldest members who left, the regulars – Hajime spots Wakatoshi's photo in the first string, and he feels his chest hurt like never before. And then they come...

The new entries.

Bokuto Kōtarō, Kuroo Tetsurō...

_Oikawa Tooru._

Hajime stops following the list once they show the setter's face. There are about three other names after him, but he registers none.

_It doesn't matter._

His eyes are wide, lips parted... His heart is beating wildly in his chest, so strong he feels like his ribcage could break any moment now. He closes his mouth and looks away. The realization that Tooru has played with Wakatoshi for five months and he has already made it this far dawns on him...

And it pisses him off.

But it also makes him feel _guilty_. Seeing his quick success, he figures he should have insisted for him to go to Shiratorizawa – that way, Tooru would have saved himself three years of disappointments. Because now it is certain that there has always been a way to make him reach the top easily.

Hajime has been dragging him down until not long ago.

He feels sick with himself.

“Oh, look at all the familiar faces,” Daichi begins with a smile. “I'm surprised to see Kuroo and Bokuto there to. They are both amazing players, but I didn't think they would be scouted so soon,” Kōshi adds, eyes never leaving the illuminated screen. Daichi nods. “With Oikawa and Ushijima on their side, they are going to be even more amazing. Seriously, I would be worried if I had to face them. Oikawa definitely is a lucky-”

“Daichi!”

Daichi shuts his mouth when Kōshi gives him a slap on his forehead, before glancing at Hajime, who is now having his legs pulled up to his chest, looking at everything but them. The former captain apologizes quietly, but Hajime brushes it off, standing up.

“Are you alright?” Kōshi asks.

“Yeah...”

_No._

“I'm tired... It's been a long day, so I think I'll be going to sleep.”

Daichi and Kōshi both know he is lying – it is only half past eight on a summer evening. There is no way he will be able to sleep, even if he wants to. “Iwaizumi, if you-”

“I'll see you two tomorrow. Night...”

With that, Hajime leaves to his room, closes the door behind himself and gets on his bed. When he finds a comfortable position, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and stares at it for a moment.

He should _not_ be doing this.

He eventually unlocks it and goes to his inbox, where Tooru's name is on top of the list, along with three hundred fifty-seven messages Hajime has read, never replied to, but also never deleted.

***

“Why didn't you come to say good-bye? I saw you!”

_As Hajime walks out of the station, he sees the text on the screen of his phone. He immediately feels a lump in his throat and barely holds back his tears until he is back home. Once he is safe inside of his bedroom, he crumbles like a castle of cards after one blow of the wind, holds his phone tightly in his hands._

_._

“Just got to Tokyo! It's huge! Ushiwaka-chan came to pick me up.”

.

“Why aren't you replying?”

_Hajime tells himself it is for his own sake – it tastes like lies; so cold and so bitter._

.

“I just had dinner – Ushiwaka-chan is actually a good cook! If only he was nicer...”

.

“Are you already asleep?”

_Hajime reads this when he is already under the covers, comfortable in a t-shirt and some old sweatpants. But he is not sleeping – he probably won't be able to, the heartache being too strong for him to bear._

“I can't sleep...”

_Hajime knows he could make it go away with a simple “I miss you,” “me neither,” “I love you.”_

“Iwa-chan?”

“Are you still angry with me?”

_Hajime puts the phone on the nightstand, ignores the constant lighting up of the screen. He feels his eyes burning again and soon enough, hot tears are spilling onto his already red cheeks. Tooru tries to call him after the umpteenth text, but Hajime covers his ears and turns around._

_After eleven o'clock, the texts stop... The calls stop._

_Hajime doesn't even want to imagine what those two might be doing._

_***_

“Good morning, Iwa-chan! Did you sleep well?”

_Hajime wakes up to the incredibly irritating buzzing sound – he curses himself for not having put his phone on silent mode. Reluctantly, he reaches out and finds another message on the screen. He opens it, reads it a few times, before he rubs his puffy eyes with the back of his hand._

_He stands up about half an hour later and heads for the shower._

_._

“Tokyo is amazing! Ushiwaka-chan is taking me to a nice café to have breakfast! I wish you were here too...”

_Hajime wishes he was there too._

_***_

“Lessons are starting tomorrow... I'm nervous!”

_Hajime is nervous too._

_***_

“Why are you not replying?! I bet you have gotten everything, so why are you ignoring me?!”

_Hajime doesn't_ want _to ignore him. He still keeps telling himself this is just for Tooru's sake._

“You are so mean!”

_For the first time, Hajime agrees with him._

***

“I just met the guys I'll be playing with! The seniors are huuuuge! Some are even bigger than Ushiwaka-chan! It kind of makes him look less scary... It's hilarious.”

_Hajime is glad to notice his excitement. He whispers a quiet “good luck!”, more than aware no one is going to hear him. He doesn't have the courage to do more, to make himself noticeable._

“The Fukurodani ace is here! He's awesome! I wish you could see his spikes!”

_Hajime can't help but let out a strangled laugh. Bokuto Kōtarō has always been Tooru's dream – he has always wanted both, to play against him and to play_ with _him on the same team. He must be so happy right now. Wakatoshi must also be making him happy... After all, he asked him to go with him, knowing better than anyone what Tooru needs._

“Why aren't you saying anything? Aren't you happy for me?”

_Hajime_ is _happy for him. He just isn't happy with_ himself. 

***

“Please stop ignoring me...”

_Hajime's breath hitches in his throat._

“I miss you, Hajime.”

_Hajime spends the night with more tears soaking his pillow._

_***_

“ _So, why aren't you and Oikawa together anymore? Kageyama once told me you were together ever since you were kids, so what changed?” Daichi asks him three weeks after they move in together. It is a question simple enough, and the answer is simple enough too._

“ _He decided to go with Ushijima in the end,” Hajime replies quietly, too quietly... But he can't help it – the memory keeps weakening him time after time. “Oh...” Daichi's eyes widen slightly. “Are they-?”_

“ _Yeah.” The bitterness he feels on his tongue is stronger than ever. Bile starts to raise in his throat and he feels his blood slowing down; he must be pale._

“ _But weren't_ the two of you _-”_

“ _Not anymore.”_

“ _Oh.”_

_Daichi changes the subject immediately – and as much as Hajime doesn't want to be pitied, he mentally thanks him for letting go as soon as he sensed the danger of the possible consequences of that conversation. Though the wound is already opened (not that it ever managed to heal... right now, it feels like it might never heal)._

“ _I let him go though,” Hajime says some time later in the evening. “Ushijima is the one who can bring out what he's capable of.”_

_The ex-members of Karasuno look at him apologetically._

_He swallows a strangled noise and sits at the kitchen table as Kōshi hands him his miso soup._

***

“Did you make any friends, Iwa-chan? I know it must hard for a brute like you – but I'm sure that even without Oikawa-san, you are not entirely hopeless.”

_Hajime thinks about Daichi and Kōshi, Asahi and the other members from Karasuno. He also often hears from Takahiro and Issei. So he can't say he is alone, and he can't say he didn't make friends. Because he did – he has a little family made of people,_ friends _, that accepted him into their group without thinking twice._

_Still, he feels lonely._

“Are they cooler than me?”

_Hajime smiles slightly. Of course none of them is cooler than Tooru. No one can possibly be like him or better than him. Ever. Hajime would know, and he knows. It is impossible. He is so tempted to reply with an insult, but he just can't._

“I'm joking... Please answer.”

_Hajime deletes the insult and gets out of his bedroom, phone forgotten under his pillow._

***

_There are nights when Hajime hears muffled moans coming from the other bedroom, along with a light noise of the headboard hitting against the wall separating them. Hajime feels his throat going dry._

_Kōshi's voice is so soft, so quiet..._

_So different from Tooru's._

_His loud, hot voice rings in his ears in moments like this, and it makes Hajime feel his blood rushing through his veins, it makes images of the setter's sweaty, naked body flash before his eyes. He remembers when there used to be nothing but the two of them; when Tooru would cling to him like he was his only lifeline, kiss him and watch through him with those blown-out, hazel eyes._

_Hajime slips his hand hesitantly in the waistband his pants, and he starts to palm himself through his boxers._

_He is already hard._

_Damn him._

“Iwa-chan...”

_Tooru's voice is everything he hears when he closes his eyes and throws his head back._

_He imagines long, skilled fingers around his cock instead of his own, moving up and down slowly, teasingly, as pink lips kiss him gently. He imagines a quiet whimper, the hold growing tighter._

“ _Oikawa...” he whispers, before he rolls over and buries his face in the pillow, his hand moving much faster. He wants him. He wants him, he wants him, he wants him_ hewantshim-

“Hajime.”

_He groans quietly, feels the heat pool inside of his stomach. His jaw tenses and he presses his face in his pillow even more to avoid being too loud._

_And yet..._

_It gives him no satisfaction when white spills all over his hand, only an empty feeling in the depth of his chest and a cold sensation all over him._

_He hates nights like this._

***

_Hajime is heading out of his last class for the day when his phone lights up. Kōshi glances to his side and Hajime feels a shiver run down his spine when he opens the message._

“Practice is a living hell! And I thought coach Mizoguchi was a sadist... I was wrong. So wrong.”

_Receiving a text like that can't do anything else but awaken an uneasy feeling in Hajime's chest. He recognizes it as worry – what if Tooru starts to act careless again? What if he overworks himself and gets hurt? His knee has always had issues ever since he first fell during practice._

_If he..._

_Hajime types quickly. “Don't be careless!”_

_He waits, rereads it about twenty times._

“ _Are you really sure about this?” Kōshi asks quietly, his gentle eyes pierce through him, and it is not needed for Hajime to know. If he breaks down this wall, it will be over for him._

_He spots Daichi waving at them, immediately deletes the message and heads towards him, Kōshi following close by._

_Tooru can take care of himself. If he can't, Wakatoshi can. He surely won't let him get hurt._

_***_

“I played with Ushiwaka-chan for the first time today. It was... weird.”

_Hajime understands._

_Having Kōshi as a setter is weird too. He curses himself for having gotten used to the idiot so much. He should have started to look elsewhere as soon as he understood this was not meant to be._

“I hate to admit it, but he's strong. Annoyingly strong.”

_***_

“Happy birthday, Iwa-chan!”

_The text arrives early in the morning, and Hajime knows it is his birthday today, but he can't really say he is happy. He can't help but picture Tooru in a large bed, naked, with Wakatoshi's strong arm wrapped around him as he kisses his nape gently._

_Yeah, he definitely is not happy._

“I hope you have a nice day!”

_Later that day, Daichi and the others organize a small party for him. It is nothing too big. There is a cake, a few of their friends, some snacks and alcohol – but not enough for them to get drunk (Kōshi would never allow it, because he would be the only one able to clean up the mess in the morning)._

_Though Hajime wishes he could drink a little more . Even if it is his first time tasting this, he likes the way it gets his senses numb. It is... Nice; makes him unable to think._

_***_

“Sometimes I feel like I'm writing a diary rather than talking to an actual person, Iwa-chan.”

***

“Ushiwaka-chan's a dick...”

_Hajime guesses he must have pulled him out of the gym by force. He mentally blesses the other wing spiker._

_Tooru will certainly not get hurt, even though he doesn't have him by his side._

***

“Do you know what day is it on Tuesday?”

“Of course you do.”

_Of course he does._

“It's the first time I'll be so far away from home. And you won't be there...”

_Hajime has never wanted to make them fall apart like this._

***

“It's my birthday!”

_Hajime's eyes open to read the text – it is a common thing these days for Hajime to fall asleep with his phone next to his pillow. Tooru's messages never stop._

“Did you really forget it? I highly doubt it, Iwa-chan... You've always remembered.”

_Of course Hajime has always remembered. He most likely always will. But he can't say it. Tooru already knows anyway. That is why he will be more hurt than necessary today. Hajime's heart clenches painfully in his chest._

.

“You and Ushiwaka-chan are both bastards! I can't believe you are so... I hate you!”

.

“You wouldn't believe what Ushiwaka-chan did for me!”

_Oh he would. He_ knows _._

_He was the one who suggested it to him after all – though he didn't really tell him to paint a realistic sky on the ceiling. All he did was tell him to put some stars here and there, the kind that costs a few hundreds of yen._

_When Wakatoshi sent him the picture an hour ago, Hajime felt his breath being kicked out of his lungs, and his mouth dropped open. Kōshi and Daichi were also left speechless._

_His hate for the man has started to grow long ago, but today, the same happened to his respect. It has never even crossed his mind to do something of that level for the setter's birthday – both because of the time something like this takes and also because he lacks the capabilities to paint like this._

_Wakatoshi really is amazing, not only in volleyball, and with this, he has just proved to him how much he really loves Tooru. Probably, in the denseness of his mind, Wakatoshi loves him more than Hajime ever did (though it is so hard to imagine a love bigger than that; apparently, it exists – even though it still has to be shown fully)._

“Look!”

_The photo loads, but Hajime doesn't save this one._

_The last text of the day comes only a few hours later._

“You could've at least said hi.”

“Of course I don't hate you.”

***

_Hajime learns about the match between teammates a few days later. He learns about it during a break in the middle of practice. Daichi is sitting next to him, a towel wrapped around his neck, and they are both reading the text curiously._

“Iwa-chan! Coach's organizing a small tournament among us and guess what- there will be scouts!”

_The idea of Tooru succeeding is strong, but everyone knows the possibility of getting in the National team is so small for a first-year college student. Tooru may be good, but lots of his teammates must be good as well, especially if they were scouted by the university._

_Hajime hopes he will get what he wants – he also hopes that an eventual failure won't break him too much._

“ _Aren't you going to wish him good luck?” Daichi asks._

“ _I don't know.”_

“ _He must care about you so much if he keeps texting you after all these months where you haven't replied to him,” the ex-captain explains. Hajime understands that – he cares about Tooru too, so much he still has not blocked his number, even though every single message feels like a stab to the heart._

“ _I hope he makes it,” he mumbles._

“ _You should tell him,” Daichi says, but Hajime shakes his head and closes his eyes._

“ _I can't.”_

_The mixture of sadness, pity and disappointment in the look he receives at those words awakens every sense of shame he has ever felt. He stuffs his phone inside of his sports bag and stands up. He calls Kōshi to practice – he really needs to get it out of his head._

_His spikes have not been this strong in months._

***

“Will you come to watch me play? Everyone is bringing their friends... I want you to be there too.”

***

“We are playing in the finals tomorrow, Iwa-chan!”

***

“We did it! We won!”

***

“ _I made it, Iwa-chan! I can't believe this!”_

Hajime finds himself reading this all over again. Now he understands what the setter meant by that – the text is from three days ago, and yet, Hajime knows what it is about only now.

The National team...

That bastard finally got there.

“Damn you, Shittykawa...” He is leaving him behind.

Hajime is so happy for him. He smiles before he lets himself fall back onto the mattress, head comfortable on the pillow. He doesn't let go of his phone – he wants to congratulate him, he wants to tell him he is proud of him, that he has always known he would make it, that-

There is a knock on his door.

“Come in.”

The door opens and Kōshi's head peeks behind it. Hajime blinks, before rolling to his side and giving him his full attention. “What is it?”

“Are you alright?” the soft voice asks ad the setter comes in, closing the door behind himself. “Daichi sometimes forgets about-”

“Don't worry about it,” Hajime interrupts. He makes space for the other to sit on the bed, and Kōshi does, sits next to him. Hajime returns to his previous position and closes his eyes – finally, the sun has gone down completely, though it is still way too early to sleep.

A gentle hand presses against his forehead and Hajime instinctively lets out a sigh.

“We are about to watch a movie: Daichi is making popcorn and I've prepared the couch. Do you want to join us?”

Hajime doesn't move. “I'd rather be alone.”

Kōshi sighs. “You can't keep going on like this. It's not good for you.”

Hajime lets out a strangled laugh. “And what _is_ good for me? I'm being a total dick to my best friend, I don't deserve anything good.” Kōshi slaps him gently. “Don't say that! You care about him more than you care about yourself. You are only making bad decisions.”

Hajime looks at him again. “Bad decisions you say?”

“You have to decide: either reply to his texts and mend everything that broke down when he left, or block his number and move on,” Kōshi explains and Hajime can't help but agree with him. He must make his choice right now, or it will haunt him for a long time after this.

“You're right,” he mumbles.

Kōshi smiles gently and finally removes his hand from his forehead. “So? About the movie?”

Hajime sits up.

“What are we watching?”

“You'll see.”

Hajime follows him out – he doesn't glance at his phone for the rest of the evening.

***

“Oikawa! Want another round?”

Tooru licks his lips slowly. The first taste of sake is definitely weird – they definitely should not be drinking, but their upperclassmen have been kind enough to treat them to dinner for their victory and for their success, and one thing pulled another... They all took one shot.

The burning in his mouth and in the back of his throat is definitely something he has never experienced, but he can't say he minds.

In fact, he nods and hands over his glass for it to be filled again.

He loses the count after his third drink.

His eyes move to his phone, which is giving no sign of Hajime – the others congratulated with him as soon as the news were over. He finds it almost sad – Hajime has not even said a mere “damn you, Shittykawa”, and Tooru can't help but sigh.

He takes another shot.

Suddenly, he feels Wakatoshi's hand grabbing his arm gently, and is pulled closer to him. Hazel eyes meet gold, but before he speaks, he makes sure all of his teammates are either wasted or distracted.

“What do you want?”

Wakatoshi furrows his brows, his sharp gaze piercing through him. “Don't overstep your limits.”

Tooru scowls. “What do you mean by that?”

Wakatoshi sighs. “You are not used to drinking. You should stop before you are not going to be able to stand anymore.” He doesn't have the minimal intention to carry him home. But Tooru shrugs it off and takes another glass, drinking the contents in one go.

The others seem to have done it before – Tetsurō and Kōtarō are way too normal for two people who just got out of a Japanese high school and had around seven shots (probably more). Tooru can understand Wakatoshi: other than the first drink, he has not touched anything else but water. In his cloudy mind, Tooru starts to think he might be exaggerating.

When Wakatoshi warns him one more time, he moves to another spot at the table, further away from him.

The night goes on, and Tooru's head starts to spin, faster and faster with every drink he swallows. His sight is getting clouded, and he barely realizes one of the seniors is touching his leg. His hand is sliding over the inner side of his thigh and Tooru just can't react. He can't even move properly without feeling like collapsing.

“Wait,” he whispers, but the other boy doesn't seem to register. He gets closer and Tooru shakes his head gently.

Before his lips are able to meet the pale skin of the setter, Wakatoshi is already behind them, a hand on Tooru's shoulder so his arm is separating the two.

“U-ushiwaka-chan?” He swallows the excess of saliva in his mouth and turns around. The senior moves away and starts to talk with his friend, acting like nothing was going on. He soon forgets about the setter and loses himself in the conversation.

Wakatoshi's look is even more strict than before. “Let's go home.” Tooru lets go of his glass and nods slowly. Wakatoshi helps him stand up and makes sure to hold him close to himself to prevent him from collapsing onto everyone. He excuses himself and lets them know the two of them are going to be leaving.

Once dismissed, Wakatoshi leads him out through the restaurant, his hand wrapped around a slim wrist, but not enough to hurt. He helps him put on his shoes at the entrance, making him sit on the floor as he ties his strings for him.

“It's raining...” Tooru mumbles.

Wakatoshi turns around, immediately noticing the rich drops of water falling from the sky. The news didn't say it would rain; it is definitely a surprise for which he is not prepared. He sighs, takes off his tracksuit and throws it over Tooru's head, earning a surprised yelp. “Can you stand up?”

“No...”

Wakatoshi sighs again, and picks him up, making him wrap an arm around his shoulders and supporting his weight by wrapping his own around the setter's waist.

Tooru is more than unstable on his feet. For a moment, he starts to pull the wing spiker towards himself and they are about to fall over, but Wakatoshi tenses and brings back their balance.

The rain is unusually cold for a summer rain, so if they don't return home soon enough, Tooru could get sick.

“'s cold...” Tooru mumbles against Wakatoshi's skin. His feet stop moving and Wakatoshi knows they won't arrive home if they walk at this point. He looks at the street and when he spots a taxi coming towards them, he raises his hand and makes it stop.

He helps Tooru get in and then tells the driver their address. Fortunately, there is not much traffic this late at night, so in less than twenty minutes, they are home. Wakatoshi hands the man a few bills and they get out. Wakatoshi winces slightly when they are inside the elevator and Tooru presses against his chest and kisses him gently.

Wakatoshi grunts at the taste of alcohol on the other's tongue, but he doesn't pull away until Tooru does. Before Tooru has the time to start another kiss, the elevator stops and they are forced to exit on their floor. Wakatoshi pulls out the keys from the pocket of his pants and opens the door.

Tooru stumbles in before Wakatoshi has the chance to stop him, but fortunately he doesn't fall and manages to keep a little of his balance.

“Let's get you to bed.”

Tooru smirks. “So impatient, Ushiwaka-chan...”

When they are inside of Tooru's bedroom, Tooru's arms wrap around him once more and he assaults Wakatoshi's lips. He kisses him hungrily this time, making his hands claw broad shoulders, as he presses against him as much as he can. Wakatoshi grunts – he definitely doesn't like the taste of his mouth – and he takes a hold of his hips, gently pushing him away.

“No, Oikawa.”

Tooru chuckles. “Come on, don't be shy...”

Wakatoshi blocks him where he is. “I said _no_.”

Tooru whines, but Wakatoshi doesn't relent. “Why not? We could have so much fun now...” Wakatoshi shakes his head and leads him to the bed, on which Tooru lets himself fall back with his full weight. “You are mean. I am so horny,” he mumbles, but Wakatoshi doesn't have any of it. “Do you need anything?”

“It's hot.”

Wakatoshi rolls his eyes. “Oikawa-”

“Seriously. I can't stand it.” The blood is rushing through his veins so fast he can feel every single piece of him like it is about to explode, and now there is no rain to cool him down. “Take off my clothes... Please.”

Wakatoshi stares him for a good minute, wanting to make sure he won't be trying anything, but Tooru's eyes are fluttering shut, and he is quite sure he will be safe. He approaches him and waits for him to sit up. He makes him spread his long legs and kneels between them.

Tooru exhales heavily and his hand twitch when large hands move to his shirt and start to unbutton it slowly, carefully. Tooru closes his eyes. “Don't tease me...”

“I am not.”

“ _Yes_ , you are. _I want you so much_...” His voice is high-pitched, irritated, but Wakatoshi can hear the true want in it. And if only he wasn't drunk, this night would be ending in a totally different way. But when the setter is in this state, Wakatoshi doesn't want to lay a finger on him. At all.

Wakatoshi doesn't reply to him and instead undoes the last three buttons and then removes it and throws it somewhere towards the door. It needs to be washed anyway, so he doesn't have to worry about ruining it.

“My pants too.”

Wakatoshi obeys, and unbuttons his jeans in the same way he did with his shirt. Tooru watches him through half-lidded eyes. He raises his legs when Wakatoshi tells him to, and once his jeans are off, he kicks off his socks too and proceeds to lie down.

Wakatoshi's mission is complete, so he stands up and turns around, ready to leave the setter to his slumber, but Tooru calls his name. “Ushiwaka-chan?”

“What is it?”

“Where are you going?”

Wakatoshi stops in his tracks and looks at Tooru. “I am going to sleep.”

“Don't you want to stay here with me? I promise I won't try anything,” Tooru says quietly, and the way he does it makes all Wakatoshi's walls and anger for his carelessness crumble down. He heads back to the bed, takes off his t-shirt and lies next to the other. Tooru smiles in satisfaction and then rolls over so Wakatoshi is facing his back.

Wakatoshi blinks before he pulls up the thin sheet at the end of the bed, wrapping the pale body in front of him with it. Tooru hums and pulls his legs up. Wakatoshi watches him get comfortable and the moves closer, until his chest is pressed against his back.

When the setter's body starts to relax, the warmth he is feeling goes away, and that is when Wakatoshi doesn't let go. “You are so warm,” Tooru says, and in response Wakatoshi buries his face in his brown, fluffy hair. It smells like... mint, so fresh. Tooru has used his shampoo apparently.

“Iwa-chan didn't reply to me.”

Gold eyes snap open.

“I keep trying to contact him ever since I moved here, but he just doesn't say anything in return.”

Wakatoshi's hold on him tightens ever so slightly.

“I miss him.”

Wakatoshi's jaw tenses.

“Maybe I shouldn't have let him go...” His voice is much quieter now, but Wakatoshi still feels his heart stopping for an instant.

He doesn't like drunk Tooru.

Tooru hums when Wakatoshi's palm runs over his chest, spreading a warm feeling through every piece of skin it runs over. It stops around his neck, gently making him throw his head back, and Wakatoshi leans up for a moment, places a gentle kiss on his temple, and then falls back on the pillow.

Tooru blinks sleepily. Somehow, he manages to find one last bit of his strength to roll over so they are facing each other.

Wakatoshi watches him fall asleep, bears with his breath full of alcohol scent for the whole night. He doesn't let it bother him.

***

Tooru wakes up around five in the morning, jolts out of bed and runs into the bathroom. He lets his knees slam onto the tiles on the floor and throws up the whole content of his stomach in the toilet.

He has never felt it burn this much before.

He is used to throwing up because of the stress, he is also used to wake up with a completely messed up head for of the same reason.

But this is so much worse.

He finds himself regretting deeply all those drinks. When he lets out everything, he sits up, panting heavily. When he turns around, Wakatoshi is standing next to him, a full glass of fresh water in his hand. Tooru looks up, but his head hurts so much he is forced to close his eyes. Wakatoshi's hand is on his face soon after, and he feels the glass being pressed against his bottom lip.

“Drink.”

Tooru obeys without complaining, empties the glass in one go, and the sensation he gets when he feels the liquid flowing into him is probably the best he has ever felt.

“Do you need more?”

Tooru nods slowly, carefully.

Wakatoshi makes his way to the kitchen and back in less than a minute.

Once the second glass is emptied too, Wakatoshi helps him stand up, and stays close to him while he brushes his teeth to make sure he doesn't fall and hit his head.

“I want to go on the couch,” Tooru mumbles, and Wakatoshi once again assures him everything he wants.

“Do you want anything to eat?”

“No?”

“Drink?”

“Coffee. Black.”

Wakatoshi raises an eyebrow at the request. Oikawa Tooru asking for something _not_ sweet? This is definitely something new. Wakatoshi prepares two cups, but brings the sugar along with Tooru's (because you never know), before sitting next to him.

Tooru's eyes are unfocused.

“I told you to stop.”

Tooru clicks with his tongue, but looks away. He doesn't really have the strength to get back at him right now. But he says one thing. “Why didn't you try to stop me harder?”

Wakatoshi blinks. “If I don't let you burn yourself, you will never learn to stay away from the fire.”

Tooru's lips curve up in a small smile. “You're so cruel.”

Wakatoshi takes a sip of his coffee, but says nothing.

Tooru is careful to do the same, and the bitter taste on his tongue is definitely a plus. He empties his cup fast, doesn't mind the incredible heat.

After a long while of silence, Tooru glances at his phone.

Still nothing.

Wakatoshi notices the frown on his face, and he understands. He understands perfectly.

“You should forget Iwaizumi Hajime.”

Tooru's eyes widen, and his head pops up. “What?!”

“You heard me.”

Tooru swallows. “Why are you bringing Iwa-chan out of nowhere?” It pops in his head the second later, fear overcomes him. “Did... did I say something last night?” Because he doesn't remember a thing. Wakatoshi's gold darkens when he looks down and his mouth closes. Tooru has never seen him like this; so... reluctant to speak his thoughts or the actual facts.

_He said something._

God, he shouldn't have drunk this much. Wakatoshi was right.

“You said you shouldn't have let go.”

Tooru freezes.

_What?_

They don't speak for a long while. Tooru's eyes lose themselves in the stiffness of the spiker's body, in the softness of his breathing. Silence envelops them both.

Only after what feels like ages, does Tooru move from his corner of the couch and crawls to him. His hand travels to his shoulder. Wakatoshi is not looking at him at all, gold focused somewhere on his lap.

“He is my best friend.”

The spiker's muscled shoulder tenses and Tooru doesn't fail to notice.

“I can't let go of him until he says he wants me to. I guess I need those words, 'the end',” he explains to him, trying for the first time to be careful with his words around him.

“Ushiwaka-chan?” he calls him gently.

Wakatoshi still isn't looking at him.

“Ushijima.”

Tooru licks his lips and takes in a deep breath.

“ _Wakatoshi._ ”

When gold widens, Tooru makes him raise his head and moves so he is sitting on his lap. He adjusts his weight carefully and cups his cheeks in his hands. “Look at me.” Their eyes meet and Wakatoshi's eyes brighten. Tooru smiles.

“I want a kiss,” he whispers.

Wakatoshi lets him have it. He lets him have everything. He _will_ let him have everything.

Always.

The terrible taste of alcohol is now replaced with pleasant bitterness and the rich scent of coffee. He sighs into the kiss, wraps his arms around him and pulls him closer. Tooru's lips are curving up and Wakatoshi can't help but feel much better.

When they pull away, Tooru rests his head on his shoulder.

“I'm tired.”

“Do you want to get back to bed?”

“I want to stay here,” Tooru mumbles, already half asleep. Wakatoshi nods and shifts, making them both lie down on the couch. Tooru is clinging onto him, making him unable to move away. Wakatoshi's eyes close when he receives a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“You are warm,” the setter whispers against his skin.

“Sleep, Oikawa.”

“Mhm.”

Tooru's breathing is deep and steady after a minute,Wakatoshi's following soon after.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there. :)
> 
> I wasn't expecting to update so soon, but I am stuck home with a flu and I pretty much can't move out of bed.
> 
> This chapter was so hard to write, and I can't say I am entirely pleased with the results, but I really didn't know how to make it different and better.
> 
> I really wanted to make Hajime different than what he is in the anime - these are the first months in his life that he is living without Tooru, so I hope you understand why I made him so broken.
> 
> About Tooru getting drunk, I really wanted to make his first time after he obtained something great, and his new place in the Nationals seemed like the best opportunity for me. In my opinion, he would be the depressed drunk if something in his life wasn't going exactly like planned.
> 
> I hope you like it.
> 
> Oh, yeah... I almost forgot: I love mommy Suga and papa Daichi.
> 
> ***
> 
> Thank you in advance for all the lovely Comments, Kudos and Bookmarks. It means a lot to me. 
> 
> See ya at the next chapter. :)
> 
> ***
> 
> P.S: if you are interested, check out my new [Haikyuu!! project](http://fav.me/d9cjvoo), which I recently finished.


	4. In Sickness and in Health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You don't look too well, you know?” the white-haired boy says.
> 
> “Why are you here?” Wakatoshi asks, not even bothering to consider the sarcastic words.
> 
> Kōtarō shrugs. “Well, I couldn't miss the sick little you, could I?”
> 
> “You have some strange hobbies, Bokuto.”
> 
> Kōtarō only smirks. “We are preparing something to eat, so come with me. Take what you need; I'll get a few blankets so you can get comfortable on the couch while Oikawa finishes cooking.”
> 
> Wakatoshi stops by the door, turns his head to look at the other. “Oikawa is cooking?”

A few weeks into their second year of university, Ushijima Wakatoshi gets sick. And Tooru has never thought he would have to deal with an event like this. He's definitely  _ not _ prepared for it.

***

Tooru opens his eyes, a pleasant sunlight meets his gaze, peeking through the curtains and illuminating him and the light blue sheets on his bed. Although the days are mostly sunny and the temperature pleasant enough to be able to wear short-sleeved shirts or light jackets and hoodies, the nights are cold; way too cold for Tooru's taste. On the extremely rare nights (three or four a month), when sleeps on his own, he is forced to cover himself with multiple layers to create himself a decent environment to sleep in.

And when he does sleep with Wakatoshi, Tooru likes to cling onto him, since his body radiates warmth even on the coldest nights and with thin clothes, so it is pretty much perfect.

Both, him and Wakatoshi, don't like to keep the radiators turned on at night: it is just a waste of money, because they can take care of their beds and make them able give them enough heat for the nights.

He turns his head to his side, taking a look at the digital clock on his nightstand. 9:03 is written in bright red, and he blinks a couple of times to make sure he is seeing right.

He knows they don't have lessons today, and morning practice has been canceled because the coach had an important commitment and could not cancel. However, even on their free days, he asks Wakatoshi to wake him up early, so they can go out for a run together and then make breakfast before going out shopping.

Today, they were supposed to go to the mall – Tooru needs new volleyball shoes, while Wakatoshi has mentioned he needs a new pair of knee pads (he has started to use them at practice whenever he plays practice matches against Tooru and his now fearsome serve, which made him land on his knees quite a few times when he received it).

And yet...

Tooru sits up slowly, rubs the last bits of sleepiness away with the back of his hand. He gets out of bed, hissing when his bare feet touch the floor. He soon finds his slippers and puts them on and then stretches, sighing when his muscles tense and then relax.

He opens his window to make the fresh air come in and gets out of the room, heading for the kitchen for a bottle of water. When he enters the open space, he blinks in confusion.

It is _dark_.

The curtains are closed, the shutters are down, the door of their balcony is closed.

This is certainly an... unusual sight.

Usually, by 8.00 o'clock, Wakatoshi is already back from his morning jog, preparing breakfast for both of them, with morning sunlight all over the place. Tooru sometimes stares at him when he is turned away from him, enjoys the view as much as he can, and then gets back to teasing him.

He could be still out, but that doesn't explain the darkness.

Tooru's gaze moves to the coffee table, spotting the spiker's phone, which is still on the same place where it was left last night.

This means...

Tooru turns back on his heel and heads back to the hall, but instead of turning to the left to get inside of his room, he turns to the right, stopping in front of Wakatoshi's closed door. He knocks quietly, but no answer is given.

He inhales and then grabs the handle, opening the door slowly, careful not to be too loud. He walks in and in the darkness, he sees a pile of messed up sheets, put one on top of the other on the bed. He approaches it and finds a few strands of hair peeking from under it. He bends over it, looking at it better, and finds Wakatoshi's head on the pillow, covered for the most part, except on the little part he left himself to breathe.

He is sleeping soundly.

Tooru raises an eyebrow and reaches out with his hand to grab his shoulder and shake him gently. “Hey, are you awake?”

Wakatoshi shifts slightly, but gives no answer.

Tooru decides to look for the edge of at least one cover, but Wakatoshi is literally rolled with them and it is hard to remove even a single layer.

Tooru decides to give it a shot: he pulls here and there, trying his best to hold his balance above the bed without falling on top of him. At some point, Wakatoshi's arm flies out and his hand claws the edge of the light blue t-shirt of the setter and pulls him onto the mattress, earning a surprised yelp.

Tooru finds himself sitting between the messy fabric of white, and gasps when the same arm wraps around his waist and Wakatoshi moves forward, pressing his face into Tooru's side and exhaling when he settles comfortably against the setter's warm body.

Tooru almost finds it endearing. _This_ is something he's never seen before. “Are you in the mood to cuddle right now? Are you alright?” Wakatoshi cuddles him only when Tooru takes the initiative; it is never the other way around.

Tooru's hand buries itself into the soft dark locks beside him, and he can't help but notice the incredible heat of his skin. It doesn't feel right. While Wakatoshi is constantly warm, right now he is boiling hot. So why is he covering himself this much?

The hand travels to his forehead, and the temperature under his palm increases even more. Tooru doesn't move it away for a while, wanting to be sure of what he feels.

Definitely too hot.

“Hey, you have to wake up. Come on,” he repeats, shaking him once more. This time, he receives a grunt in response and the giant body presses itself against him even more. But it stays at that.

Seeing his behavior, Tooru realizes he should probably try to measure his temperature, so he tries to move away, but Wakatoshi's embrace gets stronger. Unfortunately, his strength is not the usual, so Tooru manages to break free after a few struggles.

His foot gets tangled in the sheets and he loses his balance, falling forward and down on the floor. He curses and works his way to get up. He runs to the bathroom and takes out a thermometer they hold there for cases like this, before making his way back.

He finds Wakatoshi in the same position, with only one layer less over him. He sits again on the bed, placing the item on the nightstand, and then proceeds to uncover the man, so at least his head is out. He tries to make him roll over and lie on his back, but the spiker doesn't want to move.

“Oh, come on, Ushiwaka-chan! You aren't exactly a feather, so help me out here!”

Wakatoshi doesn't seem to register.

Eventually, Tooru manages to put him in the desired position and adjusts a pillow under his head to keep him that way. Now that he is able to look at him, he notices some sweat on his forehead, and his breath is erratic.

Tooru swallows and then takes a hold of the thermometer. He manages to open the spiker's mouth and puts it in, adjusting it under his tongue. He glances at the clock, wanting to make sure he keeps it in long enough. While the seconds go by, Wakatoshi starts to agitate under him, his eyes flutter gently before opening.

All he sees in front of himself is a blur, but after a few blinks, he is finally able to focus. He finds Tooru looking at him with wide, curious eyes, and he wants to sit up, but before he even manages to reach out with his hand to remove the sheets, Tooru's hands are on his shoulders, keeping him down.

“Don't move. Keep your mouth shut. I'm measuring your fever.”

Wakatoshi blinks once more.

Fever?

A couple of minutes later, Tooru removes the item from his mouth, immediately going to check the result.

Wakatoshi registers neatly at thirty-nine degrees.

Tooru's eyes widen.

“Now I understand why you look like shit. Thirty-nine degrees... Oh, God, you're burning.”

In response he receives a low mix between a grunt and a curse, and his lips curve up in a small smile. “Yeah, it sucks,” he tells him; he knows what it feels like to be sick and not wanting to be. He must feel exhausted – Tooru has dealt with high fever quite a few times until now, and it is never nice.

Wakatoshi tries to sit up once more, but Tooru keeps him down again. “Stay down. You must rest.” The wing spiker doesn't complain and listens to him, sighing heavily, and lets Tooru adjust the covers on him, covering him up to under his chin. “This should keep you warm enough.”

Tooru tries not to panic in front of him, tries desperately to think of everything he knows about taking care of a sick person. He curses himself, because he knows almost nothing. He's never been the strong type; he's never taken care of anyone, and instead was always taken care of.

Hajime did get sick a couple of times, but it was never something extreme – besides, his mother was always around, so if Tooru went to visit, he just had to stay there and keep him company, possibly without pissing him off too much.

With Wakatoshi though...

There's just the two of them, so he _must_ take care of him.

He also wants to.

Wakatoshi is always around, taking care of him whenever he can. He makes sure he wears proper clothes when it is cold, cooks for him, looks after him when he is sick (even if it is just a simple cold), clarifies every lesson Tooru doesn't understand in his classes, makes sure he doesn't overwork himself...

He puts up with him, no matter how annoying he can be.

As much as it goes against his pride, Tooru can not say it is not true.

He owes him.

And he wants to be the one to take care of him this time.

“But what can I possibly do?” he whispers, his hand clutching the fabric of his pants. Hazel eyes move down to the man next to him, and find him back asleep. He looks so peaceful, even if he doesn't feel well.

Eventually, he stands up and exits the room. He goes to the living room and retrieves his phone. He searches for his number and presses the call button.

He will know what to do.

Tetsurō answers after the second ring, his voice deep and broken. “Oikawa, what the-”

“I need your help, Tetsu-chan!”

Tetsurō snorts on the other side. “First of all, hello. Second of all, I haven't heard the magic words.”

“I have no-”

“The magic words, Oikawa,” he repeats.

Tooru grits his teeth, curses the middle blocker in the back of his mind. Stupid, goddamn tease. “Hello. I need your help, _please_.” He tries to speak with a normal tone of voice – he can't afford Kuroo to hang up on him. He hears a pleased laugh in his ear and rolls his eyes.

“Now we're talking. Explain, what do you need?”

Tooru licks his lips. “Ushiwaka-chan has caught a flu. He has a high fever and can't even move. He is in his room, and I don't know what to do! _What I am supposed to do?!_ ” He receives a startled sound in return. “Ushijima is sick? Really? Are you sure?”

Tooru rolls his eyes once more: he knows how ridiculously this might sound to anyone who knows Wakatoshi, but they all (himself included) sometimes forget that he is just a _normal_ person, made of flesh and blood.

“Do I look like an idiot to you, Tetsu-chan?”

There is a long silence after that question. Eventually Tetsurō chuckles.

Tooru snaps. “Oh, come on! Don't be a dick. So, can you help me or not? Do I have to do anything special? He didn't have breakfast yet, but I think I should make him something warm... I don't know...”

Tetsurō laughs. “That's a good idea. Make him eat: try to prepare something simple, something you know he likes, so he won't have trouble to digest it.”

Tooru's eyes light up. “I can make hayashi rice! It is simple enough and he likes it! Do you think it's good enough?”

Tetsurō groans. “How am I supposed to know? It would be kind of weird if I knew what he likes to eat better than you,” he says.

In the meantime, Tooru walked to the kitchen. “Very funny, Tetsu-chan, but you are not helping me out.” Tetsurō doesn't fail to recognize the light trembling in his voice, so he stops. “It is okay; it is a dish easily digestible, so it will be fine. Do you have everything you need to prepare it?”

Tooru covers his eyes with his hand, exhaling. “No, I only have the rice. We were supposed to do the shopping today, but...” he doesn't continue. He receives a sigh in response.

There is a small pause on the other line, but then Tetsurō speaks again: “Do you want me to bring you the ingredients? I can stop by the convenience store and then come to your place to help you out. Deal?”

Tooru nods, but then remembers he can't be seen. “Deal. I'll prepare the rice while waiting for you.”

“Are you capable of doing that?”

Tooru clicks with his tongue. _That bastard..._ He pouts. “Of course I am. See you later.”

With that, he ends the call and exhales heavily.

He stays still for a good minute, staring at an indefinite spot on the wall, and then shakes his head. He takes out the bag of rice from one of the cupboards. There is plenty of it, he finds out, enough for Wakatoshi and for him and Tetsurō too. He could make all of it, in case any of them wants another portion or two.

He pours it into a large pan and washes it a few times, wanting it to be perfect. He sure doesn't spend a lot of time in the kitchen, but the few simple dishes he is capable of cooking, he cooks well. After the third washing, the water is clear, so he he lets it soak in the water for about half an hour. In the meanwhile, he prepares himself a latte, which he drinks slowly with a loaf of milk bread.

He also checks on Wakatoshi whenever he has a minute free.

He doesn't look good.

When the rice is soaked enough, he adds another cup of water and finally puts it on the stove, turns on the heat at maximum and waits for the water to boil, stirring with a wooden spoon. When it reaches the desired temperature, he lowers the heat and covers it.

He checks on the time – he needs fifteen more minutes and it will be ready; Tetsurō should be here soon as well. As soon as his thought ends, the doorbell rings. He sighs in relief and runs to it.

“What took you so-”

Hazel eyes widen when he opens the door. “-long...”

Tetsurō is there, his playful grin plastered all over his face, but he is not alone. “Good morning, Oikawa!” Kōtarō shouts playfully, jumping in front of him. And if he wasn't enough, Satori's head peeks from behind the ex-Nekoma middle-blocker.

“What?” Tooru mumbles in disbelief, but Tetsurō shrugs. “They heard the ace is not feeling well and they wanted to come and help.”

Tooru feels weak in his knees, but it is too late to shut the door in their faces, so he just let them in. “Don't make any mess,” he tells them, though for some reason, he knows that one request will absolutely _not_ be granted.

Tetsurō places the two shopping bags on the counter and Tooru immediately goes and checks what he has brought. Onions, mushrooms, carrots, meat... He isn't sure of how to begin. He has never prepared hayashi rice before and has watched Wakatoshi prepare it only a few times – though most of the time he spent his time playing on his phone or kissing Wakatoshi's neck. He curses himself: he should start to spend more time in the kitchen.

“Any problems, Oikawa-san?” Satori approaches him from behind, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and watching him with that sadistic glint in his eyes.

“No, not at all,” Tooru replies. He might be lying just a little though.

“You sure you don't need a hand with the recipe?”

Satori has prepared lots of hayashi rice – in their high school years, he used to barge into Wakatoshi's house uninvited quite often. His mother has never seemed to mind, but he still felt a little unsure whenever she was around, so he liked to help her cook. Hayashi rice is the first dish he learned how to prepare.

“I can do it on my own,” Tooru replies.

He grabs another pan, turns on the heat and melts on it a piece of butter the middle-blocker has brought. While it melts, he cuts the meat into more or less equal small pieces and then puts it in the pan. When it starts to brown, he takes it off the heat so he is sure it won't burn.

Now, he proceeds to cut the onions, trying to be as careful as he can – he doesn't want to cut himself.

“They should be cut in thinner pieces,” Satori says. “They get cooked faster that way.”

Tooru snorts, but listens anyway. He puts the onion where the meat was and while it's in, he cleans a few carrots and cuts them, adding them later as well. He puts the meat into everything again and pours some wine on the whole to give it taste. He waits for the alcohol to evaporate, and finds himself flinching when Satori stands next to him and starts to clean and cut the mushrooms.

“Take out another pan and get ready to put these in. When they're ready, put them in with the rest.”

Tooru listens to him, a little shocked – he surely didn't expect any help from the middle blocker: they might work perfectly on court, but Satori always looks him in such a way that makes Tooru know perfectly well that he isn't liked.

Satori seems to notice Tooru's surprise, and he chuckles. “I feel pity watching you struggle with something so simple,” he tells him.

Tooru slaps him lightly on the shoulder. “I'm doing great!”

“Yeah, right. Be careful with the vegetables and meat: don't make them burn! Lower the heat, add some tomatoes and two cups of water.” Once again, Tooru doesn't bother to reply to the scolding and does what he is told. Once he adds everything, he covers the pan and then focuses back on the mushrooms.

“If you want to add salt, pepper or any other spice, you can add them later. Remember to mix the stew every once in a while,” Satori adds. Tooru nods, while moving to turn off the heat of the rice – it is ready by now. Satori keeps an eye on him for the whole time.

“I'm kind of curious to find some dirty little secrets of the lovely couple here,” Tetsurō says at some point, walking around the living room and peeking around the couch and the coffee table. “Bokuto, look for condoms, lube and all the kinky stuff.”

The black-haired middle blocker meets Tooru's glare for a moment, and it is saying only one thing: “What the hell has gotten into you to bring them here right now?!”

Satori doesn't miss it. “We couldn't leave our ace alone at a time like this, you know?

Kōtarō snickers. “Yeah, Oikawa... We just couldn't!”

Unfortunately for the couple, they find nothing. Tooru can swear on anything they want that there is no kinky stuff anywhere – they don't need it with the way Wakatoshi fucks him every single time, until he is spent and nothing more than an oversensitive mess; as for condoms and lube, Tooru is in charge of cleaning, but Wakatoshi makes sure they leave nothing behind during their wild evenings on the couch or on the coffee table.

“Stop moving things! There is nothing-”

All of a sudden, the door of the hall opens and they all freeze on the spot, four pairs of eyes focusing on it.

Wakatoshi is standing there, gold eyes widened and shocked. And then he shuts the door, returning back to his room. There, he pulls out a heavy sweater from his closet, wearing it immediately and sighing in relief at the pleasant, warm sensation; then, he approaches his nightstand and from the bottom drawer pulls out the mask he usually uses when he is sick, to avoid breathing germs into people's faces – it happens rarely, but he can never be too sure: he sure doesn't want Tooru to fall ill because of him.

He wears it.

Suddenly, the door behind him opens and he turns around, raising an eyebrow. Kōtarō is standing at the threshold with a grin, gold eyes shining brighter than Wakatoshi's tired ones.

“You don't look too well, you know?” the white-haired boy says.

“Why are you here?” Wakatoshi asks, not even bothering to consider the sarcastic words.

Kōtarō shrugs. “Well, I couldn't miss the sick little you, could I?”

“You have some strange hobbies, Bokuto.”

Kōtarō only smirks. “We are preparing something to eat, so come with me. Take what you need; I'll get a few blankets so you can get comfortable on the couch while Oikawa finishes cooking.”

Wakatoshi stops by the door, turns his head to look at the other. “Oikawa is cooking?”

“Yup. He's making your favorite food – hopefully he won't make a mess.” With that, Kōtarō adjusts the covers on his shoulder and lets Wakatoshi lead him out.

When they enter the living room, Kōtarō yells: “The sick boy's here!” Wakatoshi blinks a few times, definitely not used to seeing all these people in his house. Sure, all of them have been here a few times, but almost never together. His eyes brighten slightly when Tooru's head peeks from behind the kitchen wall.

“Could you not avoid inviting the whole gang in here?”

Tooru pouts – he was expecting something not so rude. “I didn't do anything. I only asked Kuroo to bring me some things from the grocery store, and he brought them along. On his own.”

“Hey! We came here to help you!”

“Yeah, right,” Tooru mumbles. “To help me.”

Wakatoshi sighs heavily as the three guests complain about their rudeness, but all of a sudden he gets shaken by a coughing fit. It is nothing major, some coughs because of his cold, but nothing else, and yet, when he regains his breath, he sees a wide hazel staring at him.

He doesn't look at it too much. Worry doesn't suit him.

After they are sure Wakatoshi is alright, Tooru gets back to cooking, while Kōtarō and Tetsurō decide to prepare the sofa bed so Wakatoshi can lie down comfortably and stay with them. Wakatoshi watches them put everything into place, and when the covers are finally fixed, Wakatoshi slides under them and sighs at the warmth that immediately envelops him.

Before he is able to lower his head on the cushion, Kōtarō jumps and slides his two pillows underneath him instead, to make him more comfortable.

Once lying down, Wakatoshi's eyes close and his breathing grows erratic. Fortunately, he manages to control his urge to cough again by turning on his side.

“Add some ketchup,” Satori tells at some point, and gold looks at the kitchen, finding Tooru at the cookers, listening to the instructions of the middle blocker. Wakatoshi doesn't know why, but he feels... better, seeing this.

Not even five minutes later, the food is ready. Tooru gives directions to Satori, tells him where the plates and glasses are, while he takes care of looking for the chopsticks. Once everything is in his reach, Tooru begins to put rice in every plate – he was right before: there will be more than enough, even though he didn't expect two more people coming over. When the rice is divided, Satori puts the sauce.

Tooru smiles in satisfaction and takes a hold of the fullest plate, which he brings to the living room. “Guys, it's-” He raises an elegant eyebrow when he spots Wakatoshi lying on the couch with his back on the backrest, with Tetsurō and Kōtarō under the covers with him, each for every side. He tries to hide the slight nervousness he is feeling; after all, it is the first time he seriously puts effort to prepare something for Wakatoshi, other than an occasional sandwich. He hopes he didn't screw up.

Before he can turn around, Kōtarō reaches out and takes a hold of his shirt. “Hey, hey, hey! A portion for us too, Captain.” Tooru immediately recognizes the mocking tone, but he knows he will have to bring the food to them, otherwise they'll keep whining forever.

He snorts and does what asked.

“Try not to spill anything around.”

“Yes, mom,” they say at the same time, before smirking at each other. But then Kōtarō turns around. “Why are you telling this to us and not to Ushijima too?”

Tooru's gaze travels from the two sprawled boys to Wakatoshi, who, despite his illness, is sitting properly and getting ready to eat. He refrains from saying anything and returns to the kitchen, where Satori is already sitting at the counter and has fixed two plates on it.

Tooru sits next to him. “Itadakimasu,” he says and the others repeat, with the addition of Satori's “let's hope it's edible.” With that, the middle-blocker takes the first bite, the same do the others. Tooru's eyes don't move away from his roommate, who isn't saying anything.

“Oh, God... What is this taste?!”

Tooru's eyes widen and he turns towards the red-haired boy. “What? What taste? Is it bad?!”

Tetsurō nods. “It tastes weird.”

Tooru looks at Kōtarō, who is turned away and shaking ever so slightly. He swallows – he shouldn't have prepared this. “Stop eating. I... I'll just order something.” He is about to stand up, but Wakatoshi stops him, raising his hand.

“Eat, Oikawa. It is good.”

It's almost an order, but it is sincere, not disgusted at all. It makes Tooru sit back down, hazel slightly wide and shoulders less tense. That gold... He nods and grabs his chopsticks, finally tasting his own work. He chews slowly, lets the taste fill his mouth before swallowing.

He sighs.

“You bastards...”

Satori bursts into a fit of laughter. “But you kept trying it over and over! You should've known it was good!”

Tooru exhales heavily and keeps eating, and so does everyone else.

Once finished, Kōtarō stands up from the couch, gathers the empty plates and puts them into the sink. Satori gathers the leftovers and puts them in the fridge. Tetsurō reaches the two and gets ready to wash everything while Kōtarō grabs a cloth, ready to dry it up.

Tooru throws away the chopsticks and then walks to the couch, where Wakatoshi is about to lie back down, and sits on the edge. Tooru adjusts his pillows carefully and waits for him to lie down. “Comfortable?” The wing spiker nods. “Yes.”

“Do you need anything?”

Wakatoshi shakes his head. “No, I don't. I think I am going to fall asleep soon.”

Tooru's lips curve up ever so slightly. “Of course, you need to rest. We're here if you need anything.”

“I know.”

With that, Tooru stands up and when his eyes glance at the man one last time, he finds his eyes already closed. He sighs and then returns his attention to the three guests. “If I go to have a quick shower, will you watch over him until I'm back?”

Kōtarō doesn't turn to look at him, but raises a hand and gives him a thumbs up. “Yup. Don't worry, he won't move from here.”

Tooru nods. “Okay.” He is a bit hesitant, bu he trusts them. He flies to his room, picks some clean clothes and then gets into the bathroom. He steps into the shower – the hot water makes his tense muscles relax. He really needs this. He takes a little more than planned, washes himself for good.

He finishes about twenty minutes later and gets out. He dresses up and puts on his clothes and after running a towel over his wet hair, he wraps it around his neck and heads out.

When he gets back in the living room, Wakatoshi is sleeping soundly, turned on his side and making him face his back. Tooru can't help but notice an uncovered shoulder, so he approaches him once again and adjusts the two sheets over him. His hand runs through his soft, dark hair before he pulls away and joins his friends at the counter. While he was away, they prepared some green tea – Tooru really craves for some.

He notices some smirks and amused gazes on him.

“What?”

“Oikawa-san is a great nurse,” Tetsurō says after taking a sip.

“Yeah, imagine him in a uniform, taking care of his beloved...” Kōtarō adds with a knowing grin.

“I think I have an old cosplay costume of my sister's somewhere at home... I could look for it when I go there – though it might be small for someone of Oikawa-san's size,” Satori concludes and hands him a cup.

Tooru rolls his eyes. “I don't need a uniform to take care of Ushiwaka-chan,” he mumbles, but unfortunately he is heard. He curses himself immediately. In fact, Tetsurō's grin widens and he regrets asking him for help all over again. “Oho? Perhaps you'd like us to leave so you could _take care_ of him properly?”

“No.”

Tetsurō doesn't let go of his game. “Why not?”

“Because we already have enough sex. We don't go at it like bunnies like you do,” Tooru says eying the dark-haired middle blocker and taking another sip.

Satori joins in immediately. “Oh? Is Wakatoshi good with you in bed?”

Tooru smirks. He won't let them have their fun without enjoying himself at least a little; that's not how he is. “ _Very._ ”

Satori rolls his eyes, visibly displeased by the lack of irritated reactions on Tooru's part. However, Kōtarō decides to take his place in the conversation as well. “Kuroo and I do it pretty much everywhere. I hope you don't limit yourself to the bedroom.”

Tooru shakes his head.

“Oho ho?” Gold eyes stare at him expectantly and Tooru understands. “Bathtub, couch, kitchen counter and coffee table.”

Tetsurō chuckles. “No kitchen table?”

“Not yet.”

Kōtarō crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, obviously amused. “Amateurs.”

Tooru can't hold back a laugh at that. When he calms down, he instinctively turns around to take a look at his partner, who appears to be sleeping soundly, judging by his regular breathing. Tooru's lips curve up gently – at least he is able to sleep – when he is sick with a high temperature, sleeping is almost impossible, except in rare cases.

Tetsurō laughs quietly. “He'll be fine very soon,” he explains. After all, it's just a flu. He really doesn't understand why Tooru is freaking out so much. Satori nods. “Yeah. Give him a couple of days and he'll be back to pamper you day and night.”

Tooru shakes his head. “Shut up, Sato-chan. I'm not worried: I know he'll be more than fine. I don't need you to reassure me.”

Kōtarō is the one to reply this time. “Well, it's normal to worry about the person you love. We're not mocking you.” Gold eyes keep looking at the setter, whose body freezes, hazel wide open. “What?” Tooru's gaze shifts from the wing spiker to the middle blocker, not understanding. Satori rolls his eyes – so much about his constant complains about Wakatoshi's denseness. “He's saying it's normal to care about the person you love.”

Tooru doesn't react, gaze now still and lost.

The red-haired middle blocker tilts his head to the side. “What's wrong? You do love him, don't you?”

“ _Of course I do._ ”

The room freezes around him immediately; his teammates stop moving – Kōtarō's mouth drops open, Tetsurō almost drops his cup and Satori blinks. Not once have they heard him say it. Not once has Tooru heard _himself_ say it, even though Wakatoshi had said his part a long time ago.

And now...

His palms are sweating – hazel eyes stare at them in shock and he realizes he is trembling. He thinks about Wakatoshi; ever since he moved in he's been treated like a king, as if he had always been here. Wakatoshi's actions, his touch and kisses...

His own _grudges_. Where are the hell are they? How long have they been gone? He swore he would be pissed off at him forever for being the genius he is, but... They fit perfectly together: they don't fight at all, unless Tooru really wants to do something reckless and Wakatoshi insists on wanting him to stop; it is then that Tooru pouts, yells at him and doesn't speak to him for a while. But Wakatoshi knows how to make his anger flee.

Tooru's life with him is... easy.

It dawns on him.

 _Of course_ he loves him.

On a second thought, he wonders why it is such a surprise to him. It should be obvious.

The other three are still wearing startled expressions.

Kōtarō speaks about a minute later. “Are you serious?”

Tooru doesn't even blink at his question. “Do you think I could joke about it?” he asks in shock. He knows that lots of people think they sleep together because they live together, but the ones close to them should know better than that.

Tetsurō shakes his head and proceeds to defend his partner. “Bokuto didn't mean to doubt your words. It's just... Well, we see how things go between the two of you, we understood your feelings before you did probably. But still, we never heard you say it so openly.”

Tooru knows they're right and he knows things are going to change.

He smiles to himself and finishes the tea in his cup in a few sips. Then he focuses on the other three, who are still staring at him in silence. “What's with those faces?” They say nothing to that, and instead return to normal conversation about the team and practice. They have two more days off.

When all of the cups are empty, Tooru stands up and stretches before turning on his heel and making his way to the couch. “Who wants to watch a movie?”

Kōtarō raises a hand. “I want to pick!”

Tooru lets him without making up stories – he remembers the last time he wanted to be the one to pick the movie and came in touch with the spiker's famous 'dejected mode'. He isn't sure he wants to see that again; it must be very dangerous on court.

While Kōtarō searches through the DVD-s, Tooru gets on the couch, shifting close to Wakatoshi, so the others can join them as well when they are done with the cups. Hazel eyes focus on that peaceful expression and his hand moves up to caress his dark hair gently.

He wonders why he is still trembling. He should be at peace now that he dealt with himself. And yet...

Kōtarō searches through the couple's enormous collection – most of it being Tooru's: he pretty much emptied the shelves at his house and brought with him every single movie he could carry in his bag – looking for something that could inspire him.

“Nothing romantic, Bokuto. We've already had enough of it for a lifetime,” Tetsurō says from the kitchen, earning an insult from the setter, who still doesn't bother to move away from his wing spiker. Kōtarō hums a quiet “got it” and continues looking through the boxes.

After a few minutes, the two middle blockers come out of the kitchen, and Tetsurō's eyes immediately land on Tooru's body, in a half-lying position, with only his upper back resting on the backrest of the couch, an arm pulling Wakatoshi's tired body closer – he seems to like it, even though he's sleeping; he craves that warmth so badly.

“If you stay this close to him for the whole movie, you're going to get sick as well,” Tetsurō speaks, tilting his head to the side slightly.

Tooru doesn't even bother to look at him, his eyes focused on the white-haired boy's back. “Doesn't matter.”

Satori shrugs and makes himself comfortable on the couch as well, his side pressed into Tooru's. “Maybe it's what you want, so _Wakatoshi_ is going to be the one to take care of _you_ later.” Behind his words there is only irony; no malicious intent or insult.

The same goes for the other two. They are a team, and despite the feelings going on between the two individuals, the others are bound to them just as much. Tetsurō lies down next to Wakatoshi, eyes never leaving the setter. “And I thought you were naïve when it comes to him.”

Tooru smirks. “I thought you said I could get sick next to him. I believe the same goes for you.”

Tetsurō laughs quietly. “I guess I don't care either.”

“Don't complain to me later on.”

“Same goes for you.”

“Found it!” Kōtarō exclaims all of a sudden and the three boys glare at him for his loudness. He immediately apologizes and puts the DVD into the player, grabbing the remote control, turning on the TV and fixing all the details needed. When the warnings and trailers end, the wing spiker joins the others, crawling towards Tetsurō's lap and laying his head on his lap.

They don't recognize the film at first – well, Tooru does, but he is just thinking about other... stuff (Wakatoshi, Wakatoshi, Wakatoshi...). Satori grins, leaning back and letting out a sigh. “Woah, there's five boys piling up on the same sofa bed... It feels like we're going to watch porn.”

The others can't contain a laugh. Tetsurō shakes his head. “Yeah, right. While we're at it, we could also have some fun all together.”

Kōtarō chuckles, while Tooru rolls his eyes, his lips curved up – he just can't resist them.

The movie begins, showing the beginning of the story and the talking stops.

Despite being a little cramped, Tooru can't help but feel... At peace. He likes their company, he's gotten used to it so much he can't even imagine a day without it. Just the way it used to be in high school. So he exhales quietly, closes his eyes, the movie's sounds only a mere noise in the background as he lets his muscles relax.

He is tired.

He's been worrying too much today and even though it's just some time past lunchtime, he feels as if it was already night.

He falls asleep about twenty minutes later.

***

When Wakatoshi opens his eyes, he sees darkness; the first thing he feels is a strong headache, then a burning in his throat, which spreads through his whole body and affects it so much it feels like ha hasn't slept at all.

The cold strikes him a moment later, and he instinctively tightens his muscles and is about to slide down further under the covers, only to find out he is being held in place by a heavy body pressed against his back, which is spreading warmth around him and making it better.

He turns his head slightly and feels messy dark hair tingling his skin and recognized Tetsurō's sleeping form, back pressed against his own and Kōtarō's arm wrapped around them both.

Wakatoshi blinks a couple of times, trying to focus better, but the only light in the room is the one coming from the street out of the window and it isn't enough.

A warm breath on his neck distracts him soon enough, though.

He realizes Tooru is in front of him, head resting on the pillow and under his chin, those beautiful hands on his chest their legs tangled. Behind him, Satori sleeps peacefully, turned to the opposite side, his broad back facing him. Wakatoshi wonders why they are still here.

He also wonders how could they possibly fit on their couch and still be comfortable like this. He understands it is most likely the flu's doing, but he feels... nice. Definitely nice.

He tries to shift to turn on his back, but the lack of space makes it impossible to move. He would at least like to move his mask off his face to breathe a little – the window is open, and some fresh air is what he needs.

What he obtains instead, is Tooru shifting against him, those hazel eyes looking up tiredly and meeting gold.

“Ushiwaka-chan? You're awake...” the setter whispers and pulls back as much as the middle blocker's body behind him allows him and lets his head fall on the pillow on Wakatoshi's level. “You slept for the whole afternoon, you know?”

Tooru's voice is deep and raunchy from sleep, but Wakatoshi likes the quietness of it. He likes even more when Tooru leans forward and presses his forehead against his gently and he can feel his warm breath even through his mask.

“You're still way too warm,” he says.

Wakatoshi knows he is right. He can feel it in every cell of his body and he is glad Tooru has noticed.

But still...

“You shouldn't be so close to me. You could fall sick too.”

Tooru's lips curve up ever so slightly and he tilts his head enough to meet Wakatoshi's lips through the thin fabric between them. It is extremely gentle, feathery almost, and the wing spiker can't help but feel his eyes flutter shut until the other pulls away.

“You are not listening to me, Oikawa.”

Tooru says nothing to that and sighs quietly, his hand moving under the covers until his fingertips are brushing against Wakatoshi's long fingers. He doesn't take a hold of him though and Wakatoshi doesn't take the initiative.

They stare at each other for a while, the silence above them shattered by only the other three's quiet and regular breathing.

Tooru watches him and sees the weakness, the _one_ weakness he's always wanted to see and yet... He realizes it doesn't suit him at all. He likes it better when Wakatoshi is that fierce man and volleyball player he's gotten used to by now. And now that he's at his weakest, he feels the need to be there with him and help him get back up. It's his job after all and it's the least he can do in exchange for what Wakatoshi does for him on a daily basis.

And also he needs to say it...

“ _I love you_ ,” he whispers, simple and clear and watches as those sharp eyes widen and feels his hand being taken into a larger one, the grip tight, but not enough to bring him pain.

Wakatoshi knows.

He heard him before.

“ _Of course I do!”_

But hearing it from him like this...

He's never thought he would be at the receiving end of them so soon. It makes him happy. He closes his eyes, not letting go of the other.

“Are you listening to me, Ushiwaka-chan?”

“Yes, I am.”

“So why-”

“I love you too, Oikawa.”

The setter falls silent before leaning forward and giving him another kiss. Wakatoshi sighs into it and doesn't scold him anymore, and there is so much he wants to say, but Satori is rolling behind them, pressing his chest against Tooru's back, face buried in his nape and an arm wrapped around him as if he was the most comfortable of the pillows.

Tooru sighs. “Let's continue this once we're alone and you are feeling better.”

Wakatoshi agrees with him without thinking twice and lets sleep overcome him once again.

***

The next morning, they wake up together... And yet, they are alone. Tooru sits up, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and looks around for his teammates, but doesn't find them anywhere. What he _does_ find though, is his phone placed next to his pillow.

He unlocks it and finds a message coming from Tetsurō. He opens it and finds two attachments in it. The first is a selfie Kōtarō took probably early in the morning, because he and Satori are the only ones awake. The photo perfectly captures them all and Tooru immediately saves it, wanting to look at it in the future as well.

The second photo... Is of him and Wakatoshi.

Tooru feels his cheeks heating up, seeing the position they were sleeping in: the wing spiker lying on his back and his head on his chest. They've been sleeping together like this on a regular basis for a few months now. But the thought of being seen by the others like this and the fact that there is a photo on Tetsurō's phone (and most likely on Satori's and Kōtarō's too) means there are good chances for that to be spread within the team.

As if he wasn't already receiving enough compliments, congratulations and naughty comments about his boyfriend. Now it's going to be much more frequent.

He curses himself.

“Your face is flushed, Oikawa. Are you feeling alright?”

“Shut up!”

***

Tooru catches the flu a week after. Needless to say, Wakatoshi is very strict and diligent when taking care of him. He prepares him proper food, makes sure he takes all his medicine (because yes, Tooru's flu lasts for about a week; a long time, compared to Wakatoshi's three-days cold).

What comes as a surprise happens one morning, when Wakatoshi hears the doorbell ringing, while he's preparing Tooru's breakfast.

He feels his blood freezing in his veins when he finds two middle blockers and a wing spiker in the same condition of his setter, if not worse, and he has no choice but to make place for all four of them on the couch and return the favor they did him when he was in their place.

Surprisingly, it is all but a bother, he figures while placing a gentle kiss on Tooru's forehead. Of course, the setter is the one who whines and complains the most, blaming Wakatoshi for getting sick and passing everything to him.

“I told you not to stay close to me," Wakatoshi tells him at a certiain points and Tooru whines some more at that, though he doesn't tell him it was more than worth it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!
> 
> It's been more than a month since I've last updated, but I've been sooo busy with school and commissions and everything that I just had no time to work on this.
> 
> I'm satisfied with how it came out in the end, though I do believe I could've worked on it more and make it better. But well... I'm very excited about the next chapter - I hope I can get to work on it soon enough.
> 
> I really hope you like this and I hope it is not too OC (though I'm afraid it is... but I just couldn't make it better, since my head's too overwhelmed with everything that's been happening to me since the beginning of November; right now, I'm an extremely overworked student and artist with a fucked up knee, who lives with not more than four hours of sleep every day; I'll probably collapse one of these days, but hey! I don't really dislike it, so I must be one hell of a masochist). 
> 
> Anyway... thank you for reading until now and thanks for putting up with me.
> 
> ***
> 
> Thank you in advance for all the Kudos, Comments and Bookmarks. It really means a lot to me!


	5. Of Birthdays, Bad Advice and Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Guys, please. I don't know what to do.”
> 
> “Have sex with him!”
> 
> “Sato-chan, I already told you we do it all the time!”
> 
> Satori exhales heavily. “Then buy a cosplay costume and have sex with him!”
> 
> Tooru lets his head slam against the table once again.

“I just don't know what to do!”

Satori rolls his eyes and focuses on the cup of green tea in front of him as Tooru keeps whining over and over. “He always does something to make it more special! Last he painted stars on my ceiling and this year he bought me first-row tickets to go to see the Suntory Sunbirds vs Panasonic Panthers match. He pisses me off!” Satori counts the thirtieth sigh and the twenty-first pout. “I must be creative, Sato-chan...”

Satori blinks, doesn't really see the problem. “If I recall correctly, he told you he liked your present last year. He'll like whatever you give to him, just because it's you,” he explains, hoping the torture will come to an end with this. He wants to die the moment later, when he finds out this is far from over.

“I bought him volleyball shoes, Sato-chan; of course he liked them! But it was last minute and he got home before I did, so he pretty much did all the cooking and stuff...” The setter lets out a hysterical exhale after he is done talking, the third one, Satori counts. He feels pathetic. “I just want to do better today. He is staying at the gym until nine, so I have two hours to figure out something.”

Satori brings his hand to his face. “Why are you complaining to me? Just go out and find something! You even took a day off from work to whine!”

Tooru lets out a strangled sound. “You were on the same team for much longer! You must have some ideas!”

“You've been dating for a year and a half and you still don't know what he likes?”

Tooru clicks with his tongue and looks away.

He hates that Satori is right. They are going out since the end of high school and now they are halfway through their second year of university and he still isn't capable of reading Wakatoshi like an open book. It is unusual for him.

Well, he knows what he likes (volleyball and him... so simple), but he just doesn't know what he could possibly give him to make his birthday better. Even he hates to admit it because of their past, he feels in debt for all the nice things Wakatoshi keeps doing for him and when last year, after his ceiling was painted in the most beautiful way possible, Tooru thought there was nothing better Wakatoshi could do for him, he comes out with the ticket with the best places for a match between his two favorite teams.

And the worst part is that he doesn't know where to begin to look for a surprise as good as that.

Sure, he is planning on preparing him dinner, buy his favorite cake and everything... But then what?

He pouts.

Satori really wants to die. Twenty-second.

“Just have sex with him or something like that.”

“We have sex all the time!” Tooru lies his head on the table, sighing.

His doorbell rings and Satori goes to open the door for him, revealing Tetsurō and Kōtarō with large grins plastered on their faces. “So, who has sex all the time?”

Satori laughs. “Was he so loud for real?”

“Yup!” Kōtarō says while walking in. They find Tooru with his face buried in the surface of the dining table, obviously sulking. “What's the matter, sunshine?” he asks, ruffling brown hair before sitting next to him. Tooru growls at that, earning a laugh from the other three.

Satori shrugs. “He doesn't know what to give to his love for his birthday.”

Tetsurō joins them and crosses his arms. “That's a bummer. Maybe you could make him dinner or something. I doubt he wants some kind of normal present. He seems the type to appreciate more something useful.”

Tooru whines, straightening up. “Do you think I don't know that?! If he were the type who would truly appreciate something normal, then I would have bough him the first stupid thing I found at the mall!” He realizes that those words were let out too loud by the faces his teammates make. He apologizes quietly and buried his face in his hands.

“I'm so pathetic.”

There is a short moment of silence and Satori doesn't fail to notice that the setter's mood is definitely dropping. He won't be able to wait for Wakatoshi and give him a proper birthday evening if he sulks like a four-year old girl who doesn't get her favorite toy when she wants it. He could at least try to humor him.

“Hey, you could cosplay for him!” Kōtarō yells all of a sudden, cutting Satori from speaking and earning himself wide-eyes looks. Tooru's mouth drops, while the other two burst laughing. The gray-haired wing spiker grins at their reaction and leans into his chair.

Satori stops first and glances at the setter, an impossibly wide grin plastered all over his face. “He's right, you know? I wasn't kidding when I once told you I have my sister's nurse outfit somewhere at home.”

Tooru rolls his eyes. “You're not helping me out here. Why did I even call you?!”

Tetsurō smirks. “Because you're one desperate soul, who needs help from kind people like us.”

“Kō-chan is the only one among you who comes close to that term. You and Sato-chan are evil. Pure evil.”

The two pull out their best fake hurt expression and tell him how rude he is, while the wing spiker jumps from his seat with a cheerful noise and immediately heads for the fridge to pull out the orange juice Tooru is drinking and fills his glass. “See, guys? He likes me the most!”

Tooru really wants to punch them and chase them away, but he needs them.

“Guys, please. I don't know what to do.”

“Have sex with him!”

“Sato-chan, I already told you we do it all the time!”

Satori exhales heavily. “Then buy a cosplay costume and have sex with him!”

Tooru lets his head slam against the table once again.

This won't help. He doesn't say much after this, but the others keep talking among them – mostly stupid jokes and stuff, but Tooru doesn't really care.

He closes his eyes.

Wakatoshi is going be home within two hours and he has nothing for him to make his evening nicer. Sure, he can make his favorite food, but it's not something so complicated to prepare, so it isn't capable of bringing the whoa factor Tooru is so desperately looking for.

He turns his head to the side, but still keeps his cheek pressed against the wooden surface. His eyes look at the clock in their living room and he can't help but feel guilty. He should have started to think about him sooner, but the exams really didn't give him time, and-

He is only looking for excuses.

Cosplay is the only “good” offer he received, but even if he went with it, what could he possibly wear to leave Wakatoshi stunned? He is not like all the other human beings who would just fall for short, sexy outfits and all... If he were, then he would be dating a girl and not him.

“Nee, Oikawa, why is the laundry basket here?” he hears Kōtarō ask all of a sudden. He blinks a few time and then straightens up, focusing his attention on the item. That's right, he was ironing this morning before practice. He should probably put this away, so he stands up and excuses himself, tells them he'll be back in a few minutes.

“Do you need a hand?”

“No, don't worry.”

He picks up the chest and walks to his room. He puts his share of clothes inside of his wardrobe and then goes to Wakatoshi's room. This round there's more of his clothes – but that's probably because Tooru made him spill his drink a few days ago. He opens the wardrobe and starts to put everything in place.

A t-shirt falls from his hands on the bottom of the wardrobe and he curses. He's really out of it. Damn Wakatoshi... Even when they're on the same side, he makes him feel inferior. He lowers on his legs and picks it up, folding it properly. Before he is able to stand up though, his eyes spot a bright magenta color in the right corner.

He doesn't remember ever seeing this around.

He reaches out to it and pulls it out.

Hazel eyes widen.

_Wakatoshi's Shiratorizawa uniform._

Why is it here?

Ever since Tooru moved in here, he doesn't recall seeing anything minimally related to Wakatoshi's high school days. He brought with himself pictures of his teams, his jersey and Wakatoshi's jacket... But Wakatoshi didn't-

His mind immediately wakes up, a smile appears on his lips.

He's got it.

He finishes his task quickly and checks on the clock on the spiker's nightstand. He has an hour and forty minutes left, so he jolts out of the room and runs to the living room. “Sato-chan, you are a genius!”

The middle blocker raises his eyebrows, startled by both, the setter's rush and the unusual compliment. “What the-” Before he is able to even ask the question, Tooru is already all over him, arms wrapped around his head and pulling him into a bear hug.

Satori hits him on his arms a few times – he is suffocating and absolutely hates the feeling. “Let me go, you freak!” Tooru does, but the smile on his face only widens. “I'll have to ask you to go. I need to make the proper preparations!”

“Oi-”

“Hurry up!”

The three do as he said and stand up, walking towards the door and exchanging confused looks. Tooru opens the door for them and motions them to exit. They do, but then turn around. “Won't you at least tell us what the big idea is?”

Tooru only smirks. “Bye bye, guys!”

He shuts the door without giving them an answer.

***

Wakatoshi is about to arrive. Tooru received his text about twenty minutes ago, probably when he just got out of the gym, so he should be here any minute.

Tooru exhales heavily at the wild feeling boiling in his stomach and then lets his gaze run down his body; well, this is definitely embarrassing. Not once has he ever thought he would be wearing these colors, this jersey. The jacket (maybe it's the fact that he's still keeping it) is already enough of a humiliation, especially because it is hidden in his closet, next to his old colors like they both mean the same to him.

It gives him some satisfaction though. The last time he borrowed a shirt from Wakatoshi was a year ago, and it had been large around his shoulders and chest, showing his collarbones way too much. Now it's still a little large on him, but it fits him almost perfectly. His image in the mirror was a nice proof, but it still surprised him how much his body has changed in such a little time.

It reflects on his skills and body condition as well. It's been so long since he last felt any kind of pain in his knee.

Still...

He feels kind of weird. A year has been enough to change his structure, but it hasn't been enough to make him forget his grudges. And yet... he is slowly starting to believe Wakatoshi is worth this kind of sacrifice. Just this once. Besides, he is almost sure these clothes won't even last on him for ten minutes, because Wakatoshi will definitely make him undone as soon as he sees him.

Tooru really wants to see his reaction.

He finishes preparing dinner, and the moment he turns off the stove, he hears the door of the apartment open. He takes in a deep breath and turns around slowly, shivering ever so slightly when he hears Wakatoshi saying “I'm home” from the hall.

He wordlessly counts in his mind.

3.

2.

1...

Wakatoshi's figure appears from behind the wall, gold eyes sharp and searching and when he finally finds who he's been looking for, he freezes.

The heavy bag drops from his shoulder and lands on the floor with a loud thud.

Tooru feels his blood rushing through his veins, as an unnatural stiffness overcomes his body. He can't read him. He can't even find one detail on the wing spiker's face that could give him even the smallest hint of his thoughts. So he licks his lips slowly. “Welcome home, Ushiwaka-chan.”

Wakatoshi stays still, doesn't react to those words at all. His eyes keep scanning the setter's body, running from his face, to his neck, to his chest, legs... And then back up again.

Tooru feels a shiver run down his spine and takes a few steps forward, wanting to approach him; but why isn't he saying anything? He stops when they are a meter away from each other.

After a minute of silence, Wakatoshi's eyes meet Tooru's again. And he's moving, taking slow steps towards him until they are close, _so_ close Tooru can feel his warm breath on his lips. He doesn't back down and returns his gaze, ordering himself to calm down and breathe.

_Breathe._

A large hand raises and travels to his face, knuckles brush against his skin and he stays still, lets his eyes flutter shut and his lips part lightly. _This touch..._

Then he is leaning forward and Tooru expects to be kissed, but it is not what he gets. Wakatoshi presses his forehead against his and Tooru focuses once more. He feels his blood heat up his cheeks when he sees eyes closed and a peaceful expression on those sharp features.

“I made dinner. You must be hungry.”

“I am,” Wakatoshi mutters and Tooru is about to pull away, but he is anchored by his hips and pulled back into the other man. He gasps, but the moment his mouth is open his breath is stolen away by the kiss he was expecting before. It is slow, gentle... It brings some memories to him, though their first time kissing like this was way messier.

Tooru doesn't hesitate to kiss him back, and wraps his arms around his neck to deepen it. Wakatoshi's tongue peeks out and licks the setter's bottom lip, asking for permission to enter his mouth and Tooru gives it to him, welcomes him in and his breath hitches when he feels his teeth, the roof of his mouth licked and only after that, does Wakatoshi meet his tongue and they finally play the game they both wanted.

Tooru isn't sure how long they stand there, just kissing and holding each other in place.

When they finally pull away, desperate for air, Tooru smirks. “Do you like my outfit?” he asks in a low voice and Wakatoshi's eyes look down, linger on the body in his arms. He grunts and immediately Tooru finds himself pushed back, until his thighs hit the edge of the kitchen table. He wastes no time in hopping up and sitting on it, spreading his legs so Wakatoshi can stand between them.

Tooru isn't able to catch his breath this time – Wakatoshi assaults him too soon and the burning feeling in his throat is definitely a dangerous turn-on for him. He locks his feet behind his back and presses into him impossibly more, feeling the growing hardness in Wakatoshi's pants. The man growls at the friction and immediately his hands are gripping the setter's arms, ready to push him down on his back.

But Tooru resists.

Wakatoshi pulls away from him, watching him with dark eyes, blown up with desire.

Tooru smirks, but doesn't comment on the image in front of him. Instead, he leans forward to place several open-mouthed kissesalong the wing spiker's defined jaw and neck, and the man tilts his head to the side to receive them better when Tooru reaches the juncture between his neck and shoulder, where he bites hard. Wakatoshi grunts, his hips jolt forward, pressing against Tooru's, but he doesn't get distracted by the amazing friction – he only pulls him even closer with his legs, makes sure he can't escape.

When Tooru's lips reach the black t-shirt, Wakatoshi understands how bothering it is and immediately removes it, throwing it aside and on the floor. He throws his head back when Tooru's hands waste no time to fly onto his body, roaming all over the hard and defined muscles of his chest, abdomen, back...

Wakatoshi growls.

And then Tooru is leaning forward, bringing his face close to that perfectly-builty body and taking a hardened nub between his lips, gently running his tongue over it. He laps around it gently, teasingly, hazel always looking up to observe and impress all those small reactions Wakatoshi keeps giving to him into his memory.

“Oikawa...”

Tooru blinks and places a kiss on the flushed thing before he pulls away. “Already craving for more? So naughty...”

He grabs the hem of his own shirt and is about to slide it up his body and over his head, but Wakatoshi blocks his wrists, startling him. Hazel eyes search for gold, confused and demanding for explanation, but they don't meet. Wakatoshi keeps staring at the black number one on his chest and in less than a second, Tooru feels himself being pushed down and this time his back slams against the hard surface and his hands are pinned next to his head.

Tooru gasps.

Wakatoshi's gaze... His grip...

He swallows hard. Right now, he feels like a prey, lying underneath an invincible predator, about to be devoured. Because he _will_ be devoured.

Wakatoshi presses a finger on Tooru's Adam's apple and for a moment, he stops breathing. His lungs resume their functions when the fingertip slides down, slowly, to his chest, where his palm presses hard, making sure the setter can't move.

Tooru's eyes flutter, but he refrains himself from closing them.

“ _What are you waiting for?_ ”

A weird glint appears in Wakatoshi's eyes and immediately, Tooru's shorts and underwear end on the floor and his cock is exposed. Tooru sucks in a breath at the quick action and tries to raise up and lean on his elbows, but Wakatoshi slams him down once again, so Tooru doesn't try again.

Though he is disappointed. He really wanted to be the one to treat Wakatoshi this time. But apparently, it is not something the other wants.

“The lube's on the counter,” Tooru mumbles and Wakatoshi looks to his side, immediately spotting it next to the sink. Apparently, Tooru has foreseen this.

The setter takes in a deep breath and then his legs are pushed against his chest and he hugs them, holds them in place, as Wakatoshi is about to open the cap.

“It's not needed.”

Wakatoshi flinches, but Tooru looks away.

After a moment of hesitation, Wakatoshi's fingers reach Tooru's entrance. The slickness is unmistakable and the look Tooru receives almost makes him want to laugh. “Surprise,” he tells him and immediately feels his cheeks heat up. He's not used to this. Sure, he constantly teases him, plays with him; but for some reason, when he is trapped like this, wearing a uniform that pisses him off...

He feels vulnerable.

And yet, the excitement is burning inside every cell of his being.

Wakatoshi's circles around his hole, gently teasing and savoring the wetness of the lube. He slides the first digit in and Tooru sighs, throwing his head back, whimpering quietly when Wakatoshi moves it slowly - pushes in, and then pulls out, and pushes in again - as if he wanted to enjoy every single piece of his present. Tooru moans lowly and his hands grip tighter on his legs when the second finger is joining the first and they are scissoring him. The action comes easy, without too much resistance – Tooru compliments himself for stretching himself properly when he took a shower half an hour ago and he's sure he could take Wakatoshi even right now, without any further preparation, but given his impressive size, it's better not to risk.

“One more,” Tooru whispers and his wish is immediately granted. His next moan comes out an octave higher and his eyes close. He moves his hand to his neglected cock and starts stroking himself slowly, forcing himself to relax and succeeding completely. All of a sudden, Wakatoshi curls his fingers and they brush his prostate at the first try, making Tooru whimper in surprise, but then, after all the times they've done this, it's normal for Wakatoshi to know every single spot that makes him go crazy.

The stimulation is continuous and soon, Tooru can't take it.

“Oh God, please fuck me already!”

Wakatoshi stops moving and stares at him, but the needy words made Tooru not want to look back at him and instead cover his face with his arm. He hisses at the emptiness when Wakatoshi removes his fingers and soon after feels his arm being taken and removed from his face. Wakatoshi is close to him once more.

They kiss, but it is only a mere brush of lips, before Wakatoshi is pulling away and the fingers that have been inside of him are brought to his mouth. Tooru takes them in without hesitating and tastes himself eagerly – he realizes the cherry lube he bought for the occasion smells like cherry, but tastes nothing like cherry.

It's not unpleasant though.

He swirls his tongue around every single finger, making sure he puts on a proper show for the wing spiker and the goosebumps keep showing on his skin because he knows he's being watched so intensely and-

“You forgot the condom, Oikawa,” Wakatoshi tells him and Tooru stops, pulls his head away and then thinks. Oh, shit... He must have forgotten them in Wakatoshi's bedroom. But he doesn't want to stop even for a second.

“I... It doesn't matter. We don't need it. Just... Just _get in me_!”

Wakatoshi blinks and finally opens the bottle of lube and, before pouring it in his hand, he lowers his pants and boxers just enough to pull out his already hard cock. He slicks himself properly – he puts a little more than he usually does – and then finally presses his head at the twitching entrance of the setter.

Tooru's lips part in a silent moan when Wakatoshi starts pushing in, slowly, _way too slowly_ for Tooru's taste. The setter finds himself exhaling hard when, as soon as the head is in, Wakatoshi rocks his hips forward and forces the rest of himself in in one go.

Tooru's eyes widen. The feeling makes his muscles numb for a moment and he loses his hold on his legs. Immediately, Wakatoshi is grabbing his hips and pulling him closer, the action making Tooru feel so much fuller, and adjusting his legs against his shoulders.

He stays still for a moment, waits for Tooru's hands to stop shaking and when they finally do, they grip the hem of the jersey Wakatoshi's always desired (and still desires) to see him wear. It is a sign for him to move and Wakatoshi does, pulls out of him gently, only to enter him again.

Tooru moans quietly, tries to breathe despite the intrusion. “Oh, fuck _yes_.”

Wakatoshi starts to take his rhythm, slow and steady, and aims every single thrust at Tooru's prostate, making him see starts whenever their hips meet. Wakatoshi observes those gorgeous hands, that arousing expression... It drives him crazy.

He thrusts faster and Tooru lets his voice out along with his gasps. Wakatoshi leans forward, presses a large hand on Tooru's chest, right below his neck and adds even more force.

“Ushi-Ushiwaka-chan... Ahn!”

Tooru shuts his eyes tightly and circles his cock with a trembling hand, the friction making it harder to breathe once more. Pre cum is dripping out, wetting his hand and some is spilling on his shirt as well – there is so much of it, Tooru thinks; so much that his hand is completely slick after just a few pumps. He won't be able to last long at this point.

Wakatoshi's eyes are focused on the setter's face and when Tooru forces himself to open his, ever so slightly, and he sees that intense, hungry gaze. He lets go of himself and motions him to get down. Wakatoshi adjusts his grip on Tooru's hips and obeys, meeting wet lips and allowing greedy arms to wrap themselves around his neck.

He swallows every single moan, gasp, kiss... And he craves for more, so he fucks him harder, replaces the grip on Tooru's cock with his own hand and makes sure to stroke him thorough.

When they pull away from their umpteenth kiss, Wakatoshi is barely able to hold back his own moans and grunts, so he buries his face in that delicious skin of Tooru's neck and bites hard.

It is all it takes for Tooru to throw his head back and cum with a loud moan, spilling all over his shirt and Wakatoshi's hand. The pleasure takes over his body, making his vision clouded as his body shakes harder. Wakatoshi groans when his inner muscles clench around him and it's almost painful to bear, but he keeps fucking him through his orgasm relentlessly, until he feels him growing limp in his arms.

He kisses his cheek gently and then proceeds to give him the last few thrusts before he is burying himself inside of him. finally filling him up until he's spent. His fingers dig into the pale skin of the setter's thighs and he's sure there will be marks when they finish and tomorrow, Tooru'll spend the whole morning frowning at them in the mirror and picking on him because he wasn't careful enough.

But he doesn't care.

He just can't hold back when he's at his mercy like this.

He lets his upper body rest on top of the setter's, exhales against his pulse when those long legs aren't pressed around his shoulders anymore and are slowly sliding down his arms and around his waist.

They come down from their high and are left with nothing more than erratic breaths and heavy bodies. Tooru still isn't letting go of him, blunt nails are digging into broad shoulders until he is able to think a little straighter. It is then that Wakatoshi pulls out of him and straightens up, wanting to give him space, but Tooru sits up with him and keeps holding onto him. His eyes are blown out, lusty, but there's still all the want that's been there ever since Wakatoshi stepped into the kitchen.

“I want more...” he whispers and presses his forehead against the spiker's making him feel his warm breath on his lips. “Take me to bed.”

Wakatoshi claims him with another meeting of lips and then is handing him the lube, which Tooru takes and holds onto as if his life depended on it. He lets out a quiet growl when Wakatoshi' hands travel underneath his thighs and he raises him up as if he weighted nothing.

Tooru doesn't remember much of the walk to the bedroom, but he remembers very well the impact with the bed, with Wakatoshi hovering all over him, making sure he won't be able to escape.

Not that Tooru wants to.

In fact, he pushes against the man's body, until he is sitting up, and then shifts their position until he is straddling his lap and they are in the center of the bed. Tooru's eyes travel between his own legs and he finally sees what mess he is, with all the lube and cum staining his hips and abdomen. He must remember to clean up the kitchen table later... He doesn't even dare to imagine the condition it might be in.

His thoughts disappear when Wakatoshi's teeth graze the sensitive spot behind his ear, nibbling on the skin and making Tooru's heart beat faster as new desire blooms in his whole being, despite the fact that he came just a few minutes ago. He doesn't care.

He works with his hands until Wakatoshi is out of his pants and underwear and he once again tries to remove his shirt, but once again Wakatoshi prevents him to do so, and instead leads him to his cock, already hard again and ready for another round.

Tooru smirks, watches him with knowing eyes for a moment, before he pours more lube on his hand and starts to stroke him and leans in until his lips are brushing his earlobe. “You really can't get enough of me, can you?” he asks playfully and Wakatoshi's reaction is to take a hold of his waist, raising him on his legs and positioning himself at his entrance.

“You were the one who asked for more,” is the quiet, deep answer.

Tooru lets out a quiet laugh.

“Damn you.”

And then he is sinking down on him, taking in Wakatoshi's cock down to the hilt in one swift move of his hips. The feeling of fullness overcomes him and makes his whole body tingle, wanting to reach that peek and submit itself to that immense pleasure. Wakatoshi is pivoting his hips, moving them at his desired pace, raising him up and lowering him immediately, up and down... Tooru follows his rhythm, arching his back whenever their hips meet and their skin slaps against one another.

It's weird... They don't really have sex in this position often.

Tooru finds himself wondering why; it is so intimate, close and warm it makes it hard for him to breathe. But he likes it. He likes how he can hold onto Wakatoshi's strong shoulders and look down at him and kiss him...

Maybe it's his fault.

For some reason, even after a year, there are cases when he still tries to resist him – his old habits seem to never want to leave them be.

Wakatoshi's hands are sliding beneath his t-shirt, calluses caress the skin of his back and stop at his shoulder blades, touching, feeling his muscles move along with him. Tooru sighs and lets his head fall to the side, exposing his neck and chanting a quiet victory when Wakatoshi assaults it with kisses and nibbles, leaving marks for him to keep for days.

All of a sudden, Wakatoshi changes the angle of his thrusts and hits his prostate and Tooru moans, making his head fall on his shoulder. “Does it feel good, Ushiwaka-chan?” His voice is low, strained and broken by the constant gasps and whimpers that are forced out of him, but Wakatoshi turns his head to the side, his hips not ceasing their movements neither for a second.

Tooru raises his head, waiting for an answer, when Wakatoshi presses his lips against his temple and sighs against it. “Yes.”

Tooru's lips curve into a smile. “Happy birthday...”

With that, Tooru straightens up and pushes the spiker down, making his head land on the pillow. He then puts both of his hands on his chest to balance himself and starts moving his hips on his own, pacing up and finally finding again that lovely friction that makes the lower part of his stomach hurt in such a mind-blowing way.

Wakatoshi's expression is something Tooru believes he'll remember for quite a long time after this. His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, as he holds back as much as he can from thrusting up into that tight heat. He wants Tooru to be in charge and Tooru appreciates the effort – he wants to spoil him, to make him feel good for as long as his tired body allows him.

He kind of regrets all the activity he did today, from wandering through the mall and the city to putting up with their teammates. He should have thought of something like this sooner.

They do have sex all the time, but Tooru understands now just how special they make it every single time.

He arches his back when Wakatoshi's hands travel to his ribcage and his thumbs press against his hard nipples – the feeling it gives is amazing him despite the nuisance that damn shirt is. He repeats himself once more that it's just for tonight.

“Oikawa...”

Tooru shakes his head to send his thoughts away and focuses on the man underneath him. “What?”

“I want to kiss you.”

Tooru nods and moves forward, pressing his chest against Wakatoshi's and meeting his lips in another passionate kiss. Wakatoshi grunts into it and Tooru can't hold back a moan of his. Their tongues meet and Tooru once again lets Wakatoshi enter his mouth and dominate him, explore very single bit of him.

He's getting close again and Wakatoshi seems to realize it, because he plants his heels in the mattress and resumes thrusting up into him. Tooru feels his eyes rolling back into his head when Wakatoshi's hands grab his buttocks and spread them to give him and even better access.

“More... More!”

Wakatoshi growls and moves impossibly faster and Tooru feels like he's about to melt and-

His cock jolts and the painful feeling crests and he is cumming again. He feels like his whole being could just explode and only when he looks down his body, does he realize that he actually reached his second orgasm of the night without being touched at all.

The only thought of it makes another wave of pleasure shake him up and make him tremble in Wakatoshi's arms. His voice comes out in high-pitched whines and tears fall out from his eyes and flow on his cheeks. He can't take this...

_It feels so good._

Wakatoshi holds him in place to prevent him to fall off of him and when he realizes Tooru can't do so much as move on his own, he pulls out of him and makes him collapse on the bed on his stomach. Tooru doesn't even have the necessary strength to struggle, but he manages to give Wakatoshi a confused glance.

He understands when he sees Wakatoshi moving on his knees and behind him. He is reaching for the pillow he was lying on and adjusts Tooru's hips on it, so they are raised just the amount he needs the to be to be able to enter him from behind.

He does so, without waiting at all and soon Tooru is moaning, screaming, all over again.

His body is so oversensitive from his last orgasm that he thinks, for just a moment, that he could faint any second. His cock is being stimulated by the pillow underneath him and he is afraid that he'll come for the third _fucking_ time and he's afraid this might be the right time for him to lose his mind.

He doesn't recognize his own voice and when Wakatoshi hits his prostate again, Tooru feels a slap on his butt cheeks and it makes him bury his head in the sheets and his hands grip the thin fabric so hard his knuckles turn white. Wakatoshi thrusts impossibly harder now; slow-paced thrusts, but so hard and deep it's impossible for Tooru to even think.

He does cum for the third time, but he barely registers it. His body is shaking so hard it hurts and he can't help it anymore. He turns his head around and meet Wakatoshi's eyes. “Stop... Stop, please. I can't- Ahn!”

Wakatoshi grunts, but doesn't stop.

Tooru realizes he spoke too quietly and his words came out so slurred and incomprehensible nobody could have understood that, himself included. He needs to try again, but everything hurts and feels so good and he...

“Please, stop!”

With a struggle, he raises on his legs and pushes Wakatoshi away, collapsing back down the second later. Wakatoshi's eyes are wide and he immediately rushes to him. “Are you alright?”

Tooru is taking in deep breaths and when he is able to keep his eyes open for more than three seconds, he nods. He sits up and looks at Wakatoshi's flushed cock. He was probably so close.

He licks his lips and glances up to meet that bright gold.

“I want you in my mouth,” he mumbles quietly and then crawls to him, putting them back in the same position of before. This time though, he doesn't sit on his lap and stays down. His hand wraps around Wakatoshi's swollen cock, and he's so hard Tooru could barely believe it possible if only he hadn't experienced it countless times already.

Wakatoshi is supporting himself on his elbows, sharp eyes watch the setter's every single move and when Tooru reaches him with his mouth and places a gentle kiss on the head, Wakatoshi exhales.

“Oikawa...”

Tooru takes him in before he manages to say anything else. He hums when the familiar weight presses against his tongue and closes his eyes, enjoying the taste of himself. Oh, now he recognizes the taste of cherry, when he's drugged with the scent of Wakatoshi and himself and _sex_...

He swirls his tongue around Wakatoshi's length and strokes with his hand what he can't reach with his mouth. He pulls away, making sure to drag his lips all the way up and then takes him once again until he feels him brushing the back of his throat. He breathes through his nose, tries his best not to gag.

He almost risks a coughing fit because of his carelessness, but soon Wakatoshi's hand is in his hair and is guiding him in his movements. Tooru moans at just that contact and the reaction he receives from Wakatoshi is amazing. He starts to suck on him; he doesn't bother to be gentle – Wakatoshi is so close and he's not letting him fuck him until he's spent, so he has no choice – and instead performs with his mouth like he does when he's needy in the locker room and they have five minutes before their teammates join them.

Wakatoshi's hips are moving with his head and without realizing it, Wakatoshi is leading his head against him just the way he wants.

And then he is pulling him off of him and Tooru is groaning at the feeling but then there is cum on his face, in his mouth, warm and sticky and bitter... Tooru strokes him to completion, until he is empty and an oversensitive mess, just like him.

Wakatoshi lets himself fall on his back and watches as Tooru brings his hands to his face and gathers the cum on his cheeks and chin with his fingers, only to lick them clean afterwords.

He lasts on his knees for only a second and then he's falling forward and onto Wakatoshi's chest.

They are panting hard, eyes closed and bodies heavy. They don't move for long – Tooru doesn't know if it's ten minutes or more... But he knows his body is cooling down and he's slowly regaining his senses. Wakatoshi sits up at that point, holding him against him.

“I'm hungry, Ushiwaka-chan,” Tooru mumbles with a yawn and leans into the touch when Wakatoshi cups his cheek. “Let's take a bath first, Oikawa. You are a mess.”

Tooru chuckles. “But you _love_ me when I'm a mess, admit it. Besides, it's all your fault.”

“Indeed it is.”

Wakatoshi stands up from the bed and pulls Tooru with him. The setter's legs are wobbly and he wonders if they'll give out before he makes it to the bathroom or not. They don't, fortunately, but his lower back hurts like hell and he's pretty sure he'll have trouble walking tomorrow.

Wakatoshi walks close to him and follows him to the bathroom. Tooru stops in the center of the room and watches the wing spiker run a hot bath and then pull out fresh towels for both of them.

“Am I allowed to take off this shirt now or do I also have to bathe in it?” Tooru asks in a weak attempt to pull off a joke, but Wakatoshi raises an eyebrow and Tooru rolls his eyes. “Come on, did you think I wouldn't notice? I thought you were going to bite off my hands if I tried to take it off.”

Wakatoshi approaches him slowly and lets his eyes fall on his body. “I recall saying to you that these colors suit you.”

“You were talking about the jacket.”

“I thought you knew better.”

Tooru chuckles. “Of course I know better, idiot.”

He doesn't let Wakatoshi speak anymore and heads for the tub, where he steps in and makes himself comfortable. Wakatoshi follows soon after and sits on the opposite side. He finds Tooru with his eyes already closed, ready to doze off any moment.

Wakatoshi remembers him saying how, no matter how hot the days, he would never give up on a steaming bath, especially if it's after sex. Wakatoshi doesn't start any conversation and instead lets him rest for a while, wanting him to restore at least a little of his energy so they can eat without him complaining too much – he probably will, anyway.

Wakatoshi doesn't care at all though.

While Tooru naps, the spiker washes himself quickly and then exits the tub. Then, he kneels down next to it and washes Tooru's face and hair, wanting to remove every trace of their previous actions – he's sure Tooru would kill him if he let him walk around with cum in his hair – and when he is clear and smelling of fresh mint, Wakatoshi shakes him ever so slightly.

“Oikawa.”

“Mhm?”

“You are clean, so let's go have dinner and then you can return to your slumber,” Wakatoshi speaks quietly, but Tooru shakes his head. “'m tired.”

Wakatoshi sighs and splashes some water on his face, making him jolt in surprise. “What the- Ushiwaka-chan, you bastard!” he whines and then rubs his eyes with the back of his hands. Eventually, he does get out and staggers to his room to put on some decent clothes. Wakatoshi does the same and when they meet in the kitchen, Tooru cleans up the kitchen table and then sits at it, laying his head on the surface and letting out a tired sigh.

“We're sleeping in my room tonight,” he mutters quietly.

“Alright.”

Wakatoshi warms up their dinner and then divides the food in two large portions and puts everything in place, before sitting opposite his partner.

They don't say anything as they eat, but Tooru seems to be more awake by now and Wakatoshi doesn't let this chance escape: he observes every single detail of his face, notices how much he has changed in these last few months. But he is still the same person he's always wanted with him, that held all those grudges against him for so long.

He still does.

Wakatoshi would be a fool not to realize it.

But he still likes him. Very much.

“Why are you staring at me, Ushiwaka-chan?”

Wakatoshi raises an eyebrow.

“I swear, if I have cum in my hair, I'll-”

“I washed it away, don't worry,” Wakatoshi reassures him, his lips curve up into a light smile.

Tooru blinks a few times, trying to make sure he's not seeing things. But the smile is real, so he returns it for the briefest of moments, before pouting. “You used the wrong shampoo though.”

“You often use my shampoo, Oikawa.”

“But I wanted to smell like cocoa tonight!”

“I'll remember it next time,” he assures him and returns to his food.

Surprisingly (but then, it's kind of predictable) Tooru finishes first and stands up, walking to the fridge. He pulls out a small fruit cake, one of those he knows Wakatoshi likes. He's never been the type to eat creams or chocolate, but when it comes to these, he likes them.

“Do you want some?” he asks, and Wakatoshi contemplates it before looking up at him. “Yes, please.”

Tooru cuts two larger slices and makes some green tea. He tells Wakatoshi to wait for him in the living room and it's a relief when he follows his orders without complaint. It's funny, Tooru thinks. He remembers the first time he made tea for him, when they were still back in Miyagi and his life was a little less complicated.

They don't have much time to spend lazying around, between work and studies and volleyball.

Tooru joins him after ten minutes and they turn on the TV, watch the two episodes of Tooru's favorite drama and then head for Tooru's bedroom.

Once inside, Tooru makes his way under the sheet and adjusts his pillow so he's in a sitting position and waits for Wakatoshi to gather his cellphone and book and bring them to his bedroom. Hazel eyes stare at the stars on the ceiling, but he is soon distracted when Wakatoshi sits on what has become his side of the bed, wearing only a pair of sweatpants.

His attention is focused on Tooru, who is grinning playfully. “So, did you like your present?”

“Yes, I did.”

“You know I'm not wearing that again, don't you?”

Wakatoshi nods. “I am aware you aren't fond of it. But why did you wear it if you don't like it?”

Tooru looks away and a weird feeling is born inside of his stomach. “It doesn't matter.”

Wakatoshi tilts his head to the side. “Why are you blushing?”

“I am not!”

Wakatoshi raises an eyebrow and moves closer to him; he watches as Tooru's eyes widen ever so slightly and his head turns to look at him. They are close to each other and, despite the fact that Wakatoshi's position is a little uncomfortable, he still leans in and kisses him gently.

The setter's hands cup his cheeks and deepens it, as much as he can, until they pull away to breathe. Wakatoshi's forehead is pressed against his and Tooru can't bring himself to let go of him.

They lie down only some minutes later, facing each other. Tooru is tired, barely keeping his eyes open and focused. His whole body hurts, but he can't say he minds, though it's indeed been a while since it hurt _this_ much. He shouldn't get used it, or he might become addicted and if he does, he won't be able to practice properly.

That would be really bad.

“You should sleep, Oikawa.”

“'m not tired.”

“Yes, you are.”

“'m not.”

“It's late.”

Tooru somehow manages to find a last bit of strength to turn around and check the hour on his clock. 11.45 pm... Well, Wakatoshi's got a point on that.

“Ne, Ushiwaka-chan?”

He hears Wakatoshi sigh at the nickname, and he can't help but smile. “What is it?”

“Happy birthday.”

Tooru decides he'll tell him tomorrow about the trip to the sea he managed to organize for them. They'll have seven days of break starting on Monday and Tooru wants to make up the most of it. Besides, Wakatoshi deserves a vacation and he believes he does too. He has already talked to his mother and it seems that, with the plans he made, he'll be able to go to Miyagi only for three days before his lessons start again. She said she understands and she was genuinely happy; he could hear it in her voice.

Wakatoshi has made himself comfortable and is reading his book, the light of the lamp on the nightstand apparently enough. Tooru wonders what the book is about, but he doesn't really want to hear about it now that he feels sleep over coming him.

Tomorrow he could ask about this as well.

Tooru falls asleep with a hand stroking softly on the curve of his hip; he snuggles deeper into the pillow he's lying on and stretches now pleasantly sore muscles before finally stilling completely and falling into a dreamless sleep.

Wakatoshi's eyes glance at him when he hears soft, regular breathing and he instinctively pulls him closer, so Tooru's body is pressed against his side, an arm wrapped around his abdomen. Tooru's hair is soft and tingles his skin, but Wakatoshi doesn't see it as a bother.

Tooru's sleeping soundly within the next ten minutes, so Wakatoshi makes sure to be quiet. He might be a little disappointed though... He forgot to take a picture of Tooru before they headed to wash themselves.

Oh well, it's not like he's going to forget it that easily.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! Chapter five is finally done!
> 
> I thought I wouldn't make it, especially because I have a rough week coming up and there are so many tests and so many commissions to do... I believe I'll die by Friday. Oh well...
> 
> So, I really wanted to write about Ushiwaka-chan's birthday and about Oikawa freaking out because he doesn't know what to do. I hope you enjoy this, because I indeed enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> I can't wait to get to work on the next chapter, because it's where things get complicated again, so get ready for rollercoasters and a new amount of angst, so feed on this smut for as long as you can. You have been warned. :D
> 
> ***
> 
> Thank you in advance for all the lovely Comments, Kudos and Bookmarks. It really means a lot to me!


	6. How It Is and How It Should Have Been

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Eh? But Sugawara-kun and Sawamura-kun seem nice to live with,” she says, tilting her head to the side.
> 
> Hajime nods. “They are; they really are... It's just- Sometimes I need to be alone, you know? It helps me to think.”
> 
> Brown eyes blink. “Think about what?”
> 
> Hajime feels his blood freezing in his veins and it's almost painful, because his muscles are tensing and he can barely breathe. Shit. He said too much, probably. Definitely.
> 
> “I- Umm...”
> 
> What is he supposed to say?

“Hajime!”

Green eyes lighten up when he sees the familiar voice calling him. He sees Keiko standing in front of the restaurant they chose for today's lunch, wearing a light blue dress and black stockings, her long, chocolate-colored hair falling onto her shoulders, above her breasts only to end a little under her waist.

She surely likes to keep it that way, though Hajime can't help but wonder how much of a bother it could possibly be to comb it every day.

It must be a living hell, though when he once told her that, she laughed and answered with a simple “you boys will never understand.”

Hajime walks up to her and she immediately stands on her tiptoes and places a chaste kiss on his lips, before pulling away and giving him a shy smile. Hajime returns it, observes the light blush on her cheeks caused by the public display of affection – they've been dating for a little less than three months, and she is more outgoing than any girl he's ever met, but she still blushes when they hold hands when they're together. It's more because of the pride than of the shyness.

Hajime can't help but find it cute.

(Still, there are images flashing in front of him whenever he closes his eyes; images of strong arms wrapping around him, patting him on his back – lingering perhaps a little too long than they should.)

“Hello, Keiko. You seem particularly happy today. Did something happen?”

The shyness of her smile disappears immediately and she nods. “Let's get inside first. I'm starving!” With that, she takes his hand and drags him in.

The waitress spots them immediately and greets them, immediately showing them the way to their seats. Before leaving, she takes their orders for the drinks and hands them the menus.

Hajime immediately notices there are lots of western dishes – some of them he saw in cooking programs on the Tv, some of them were cooked to him when his parents came back from their trip to Europe – and then watches as Keiko's eyes scan through the paper for about a minute, and then her lips curve up again and she puts down the piece of paper. “Alright, I've made my choice.”

The wing spiker blinks. “Yeah, me too.”

They place their orders – Keiko orders a grilled chicken breasts, roasted potatoes and a salad, while Hajime decides to pick roast beef and baked potatoes; when the waitress asks if he wants a salad, he says yes. More food won't kill him; his energy is pretty low lately, with all the things he has to study and the tests and volleyball...

“So, what is it that you wanted to tell me?”

Keiko claps her hands. “I got the top score in my last nuclear chemistry test. With this, I'm officially free until January! Sure, I still have things to study – I don't really want to fall back with the program – but there is no more pressure... God, I feel so happy. Oh, and you know what else is new? My roommate finally found herself a boyfriend and it's been two weeks since she stopped nagging me on how she is feeling lonely and stuff. I think I'm going to spend the next few days sleeping.” She laughs at that, and Hajime does too.

“Well, if I need rest, I know where I can go.”

Keiko blushes and looks away. “You already know you can come over whenever you want.”

Hajime finds it endearing. They slept together for the first time after a month. Even though he thought it was early, she initiated it and told him she was sure of it, so he didn't hold back. It felt... surprisingly good. Hajime can't help but think of how this is the first _stable_ relationship ever since...

(Tooru.)

Hajime remembers sleeping so nicely that night. And all the others they spent together.

When they are alone and Keiko is able to relax and let herself go, she is pretty funny, cheerful and manages to lighten up Hajime's mood when he's all gloomy or needs rest, or whatever else.

“Eh? But Sugawara-kun and Sawamura-kun seem nice to live with,” she says, tilting her head to the side.

Hajime nods. “They are; they _really_ are... It's just- Sometimes I need to be alone, you know? It helps me to think.”

Brown eyes blink. “Think about what?”

Hajime feels his blood freezing in his veins and it's almost painful, because his muscles are tensing and he can barely breathe. _Shit._ He said too much, probably. Definitely.

“I- Umm...”

What is he supposed to say?

That he still thinks about _that_ idiot even though they haven't seen or spoken to each other for more than a year?

He licks his lips.

Keiko doesn't even know who Tooru is.

Maybe it's better if she doesn't find out.

“Hajime, I'm kidding. I don't really want to know what's going on in that head of yours. Though if you come to my place, you surely won't be alone, since I'll be there too.”

Hajime exhales at that, the light tone brings him back up and makes him release the tension.

“Yeah... But you're even nicer to have around.”

She laughs. “Am I?”

“Yeah,” is the quiet reply.

He watches as Keiko takes a sip of her drink, her eyes lost somewhere outside of the window next to them. Hajime looks out as well, but doesn't look at anything in particular. Though he notices the sky being gray – much grayer than it usually is. It is also quite cold.

“Here is your food!” The waitress's arrival makes them snap out of their thoughts and he bursts into a laugh when he sees Keiko's eyes widen and her expression turn into one of adoration for what's being placed in front of her. The waitress excuses herself and leaves them to their food.

There is so much of it...

“What? Afraid of the portion?”

Keiko blinks a few times, but her eyes still never leave her plate. “No... You can't even imagine how delicious this looks. I love chicken meat. I dream of it every night...”

Hajime raises an eyebrow, clearly startled by the funny declaration. Not once has he heard a girl talking so openly about their love for food. Most of them try to contain themselves, eat less than they want to because they don't want to appear glutton or weird.

Keiko is... Quite different.

But then, there are days when none of them wants to go out and her roommate is away and they spend the afternoons at her apartment, playing video games and watching stupid movies.

Maybe it's because of the year she spent studying abroad. People are quite different there – Hajime's always wanted to go and see for himself. Maybe it would've been easier.

“I'm digging in. Itadakimasu!”

By the time Hajime has grabbed his fork, Keiko is already taking her first bite.

“God, this is so good...”

The rest of their lunch is spent in mindless chatting. Keiko talks a lot – she goes out a lot, has a lot of friends, is very popular in her group – but Hajime just can't find it annoying. A feeling of nostalgia hits him when she talks about her classmates and the dinner they went to the other night.

When they finish, they order desserts and Hajime wants to pay for all of it, but Keiko is extremely stubborn, so they end up splitting the bill.

“Where do you want to go now?” Hajime asks when they exit the place. Keiko check the hour on her phone. “Well, we've still got about two hours before the movie starts. Let's go to the mall? I need to get a couple of things to finish the drawing I'm working on.”

Keiko excels in many things. Drawing is one of them. She makes gorgeous fan art, creates lots of her own characters, but even when it comes to realistic portraits she still creates miracles. Hajime always makes sure to kiss her hands whenever they're alone in the bedroom. Their touch is so gentle and pleasing...

(Tooru's hands have always been more than pleasing; when tossing the ball, serving it to the other side of the net; when stroking his hair, his face, when roaming over his body... Hajime remembers calluses pressing against his tongue, making his sight a blur.)

“Sure, let's go.”

Fortunately, the restaurant is close to the mall, so they walk for about a quarter of an hour and head in.

There are many people surrounding them, all probably waiting for the same thing they are waiting for. Keiko doesn't really bother to stop in various shops to wander like most girls do – Hajime's sure he's never seen her doing that – and instead immediately heads for the shop she's interested in, on the first floor.

Hajime follows her, their mindless talk continuing without stop.

But Keiko shuts up as soon as she is in front of the shelves with the colors. Hajime sees a glint in her eyes: he doesn't doubt her capability of buying everything that's in front of her if only she could. She examines all the brands, very careful with spotting every detail, testing the quality...

“I don't really understand what you're doing...” Hajime mumbles after ten minutes of her repeating every single action with every colored pencil she takes in her hand.

“I'm bonding with the colors...” she says and then lets out a laugh. Hajime barely holds himself back, but he doesn't find it weird at all. Surprisingly.

(Whenever Tooru used to go to the sports' shop for a new volley ball with him, he would hold in his hands every single one in the chest, wanting to buy the one that fit his hands perfectly. Even though Hajime kept telling him they were the same, he never ceased his rituals.)

“Okay! I have chosen my babies!”

Hajime chuckles. “Let's go to the cashier then,” he says.

“Do you need to stop at the sports' shop too? I remember you said something about buying new knee pads the other day.”

Hajime shakes his head. “No, I went there with Suga and Daichi the other day.”

He appreciates the thought. He appreciates her coming to practice just to cheer him on or, if she's busy during the day, to say hi. She never takes too much of his time there and his teammates often tell him how much they envy him for having a girlfriend who isn't jealous of a sport. On the contrary, she always makes sure he isn't missing anything there – she brings him sports drinks and snacks for after practice and sometimes, when her friends come with her, she brings refreshment for the whole team.

He really is lucky.

“Oh, this means we still have a little less than an hour and a half.”

“Yeah.”

She smiles. “How about we walk there? I know it's a bit far, but I wouldn't mind if we went to through the park. There must be no one there with this weather.”

Hajime raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure? There's a long way to go. We could take the bus and be there quicker.”

Keiko shakes her head. “We have time, let's go!”

They exit the busy place, let the cold air greet their faces. The girl inhales it, her lips curving up ever so slightly at the feeling and Hajime watches her, feels blood rushing to his cheeks. She did tell him she likes the cold more than anything else. Winter is her favorite season.

Hajime watches her brown hair fly, moved by the wind, her pale cheeks turn of a pretty shade of pink – it looks nice with her brown eyes... Very nice.

Hajime offers her his arm and she wraps hers around him, nuzzling his shoulder and smiling, her hold tightening on instinct, but it doesn't hurt. Rather, it makes Hajime's chest feel warm.

Her hands are cold though.

“You sure you don't want to take the bus? We still have time, and you could catch a cold.”

“Hajime, no. I said it's okay,” she repeats and starts to walk. Hajime follows her.

(In that moment, Hajime forgets.)

Keiko turns to look at him. “I forgot to ask you how it's going with your studies. I kept on blabbing about myself without thinking. Sorry about that.”

Hajime grins at her apology. “Don't worry about it. Actually, I hope I'll be able to pass the next exams I am planning to take. I don't really want to have to make up for bad grades.” He feels a reassuring hand taking his, arms still holding onto each other. “You can do it. When there's something you want to do, you always make sure to succeed. I know you well,” she replies, her expression soft and sincere.

Hajime appreciates the support – more than he'll ever be able to say out loud.

“Thanks for believing in me,” he says.

They walk by a pond and find kids running around, wearing heavy coats and scarves and yet looking so light.

Hajime's eyes follow them until they pass them by.

“Are you going to stay at your parent's house for Christmas?” Keiko asks all of a sudden.

“Nah, I'm going there the week before, so I'll be free unless something else pops out. But I highly doubt it.”

“Won't you have practice?”

Hajime shakes his head. “No, coach is going to give us a week to rest properly.”

“Is that so? Then maybe we could spend it together. My parents are away, and so is my roommate, so I'll be alone.”

Hajime doesn't hesitate. “Of course. I'd really like that.”

They don't agree yet on what exactly the could do, though there are options. And extreme variety of them. Hajime thinks about a trip somewhere, maybe the hot springs or the mountains. Whatever attracts her too. They'll talk about it when he returns from his parents' house.

The rest of the walk is spent in mindless chatter, laughs and holding hands. After more or less forty minutes, they arrive at the cinema and they find people there, but still not too many of them. People don't really hang out much in the middle of the week.

“What did you have in mind, Keiko?”

The girl shakes his head. “This time you choose, Hajime. I chose the last time.” It was a horror movie, Hajime remembers, and she was enjoying a bit too much to be considered normal. People were screaming in the room and he even found himself wincing a few times. She only kept eating her popcorn with a glow in her eyes. When they exited the cinema, she said it's been a while since she saw a horror movie this good. She was indeed pleased.

“Do you prefer any genre?”

“Whatever you want,” she says. “I need to go to the restroom. I want chocolate popcorn, the biggest portion they have,” she adds then, pulling out her wallet and giving it to him. Hajime refuses it though. “It's my treat.”

She tries to insist, but as they are both stubborn, eventually she gives up and goes her way, while Hajime stands in the short line for the tickets.

By the time Keiko is back, he has gotten everything and is waiting in front of the entrance to their room.

“Sorry, there was a long line,” she says apologetically, but he tells her it's okay.

They find their seats and make themselves comfortable. Keiko thanks him for the pop corn and adjusts her drink next to her. It takes about ten minutes for all the spots to be taken, though some are left empty. Hajime's hand finds the girl's and he intertwines their fingers, gently squeezing.

The trailers of the upcoming movies begin and at a certain point, one catches Keiko's attention. “We've got to go and see that. It comes out on the fifteenth of January? It's on. Are you coming with me?” she asks turning her head to look at her boyfriend.

“Sure.”

She giggles and motions him to come closer. He does and she presses a chaste peck on his lips and mutters a quiet “Thank you.” He nuzzles into her cheek and then regains his composure.

“What did you choose, by the way?”

“It's a surprise. You'll like it.”

“I trust you.”

The movie begins and Keiko immediately notices the intricate setting – it is not a horror. And then the story is revealed, and the character start to talk, interact with each other.

Soon she understands she isn't supposed to miss any details. By the expression on her face, Hajime understand he picked the right one. He doesn't let go of her hand and enjoys the movie. Oh, he picked the right one indeed.

Eventually Keiko rests her head on his shoulder, and stays like that until the end. The ending is a surprise to the wing spiker, but the girl doesn't seem too surprised. Instead, she smirks, which lets him know she has guessed correct. When the lights are turned on, they remain in their seats and wait for most of the crowd to exit.

They follow them out only about five minutes later and they stretch.

It's gotten dark outside and much colder.

“I want some hot cocoa,” she says. “And then we could go to your place. You said Sawamura-san and Sugawara-san won't be back before midnight, right?”

Hajime nods. “Very well then.”

“I know a cute place. It isn't very well known, but they have amazing hot drinks.”

Hajime follows her without complaining. He can't believe this date is going so well. There is no whining, no useless shopping and store exploring. She even refused when Hajime offered to carry her bag – even though it's really small. She just put it into her large purse and told him to forget about it.

They arrive at the place and there aren't many seats left. “Didn't you say it wasn't very well known?”

“People don't really know about it, since it's pretty much far from the main road, but once they find it, they don't go anywhere else.”

The girl at the bar recognizes Keiko and waves at her. “Come here. I saved you a spot.”

Hajime flinches. “She knew we were coming?”

“I sent her a text when we exited the cinema.”

Hajime doesn't comment on the statement. He should have imagined it. They are led to their spot and sit down. The waitress brings them the menu, but Keiko doesn't even open it and orders hot cocoa with cream. Hajime decides to take black coffee.

He isn't really in the mood for complicated drinks. His pop corn is still laying in his stomach and it'll take him a while before he digests it. He wonders how can she possibly want other chocolate when hers was full of it.

He doesn't ask.

Though there are many people, they don't wait for long. The cups are large and full, but the smell is delicious. Keiko plays with the spoon and the cream, before finally taking some and putting it in her mouth. Her smile says it all, so Hajime finally decides to take a sip of his beverage.

“Holy- This is good!”

Keiko smirks. “Told you so.”

They find other things to talk about, small talk, nothing important. But it's nice. The place is warm and gives Hajime this comfortable feeling.

“Do you have plans for tomorrow?”

Keiko tilts her head to the side, thinking about it. Then she shakes her head. “Nope.”

Hajime licks his lips, reaching out to take her hand. “Will you stay over at my place tonight?”

“If you want me to.”

“Of course I do.”

They finish their drinks slowly – Hajime enjoys his too much and Keiko enjoys watching him have fun.

Shimizu told her once, that he left from a relationship that broke his heart into a million pieces. She didn't tell her who it was, how it happened, why it happened... But when with him for the first time, Keiko could sense it, the way he was so distant, hesitant... Almost afraid. But he's never had ill intentions. Maybe that's why she opened herself to him so soon.

But she truly likes him.

Especially now that he's coming out of his shell, radiant and cheerful.

His smile is really something.

“Is something wrong?”

She's been caught staring, apparently. “Not at all.”

She finishes her chocolate and stands up. Hajime raises an eyebrow. “Where are you going.” Keiko doesn't reply and instead digs her hand into her purse and pulls out her wallet.

Hajime shakes his head. “Oh no, you won't.”

Keiko gets out of the booth and to the waitress before Hajime has the time to stand up. When he does manage to reach her, she turns around and grins. “Too late, dear,” she says playfully.

“Why did you do it? We're on a date! I'm supposed to treat you.” He is whining and she laughs. “I don't think so. I don't know what kind of girls you're used to, but I'm not some kind of whiny spoiled child that wants to be spoiled even more. In this relationship, we're _equals_.”

She watches green eyes widen and brings her hand to cup his cheek gently. “Now let's go to your place. There's a movie I want to catch later and I would really like to take a shower.”

Hajime nods.

He lives quite close to that bar – he considers showing it to Daichi and Kōshi. It seems like a nice place to have breakfast at.

His attention focuses back on the road ahead of him. They get into the apartment, warm and clean. Keiko finally steps up to him and pulls him down for a kiss, now passionate and hot. Hajime's grip travels to her waist, pulling her closer, into him.

It doesn't last as much as he wants it to. She pulls away and her lips curve up. “Shower,” she says.

“I'll bring you some clean towels.”

“I think I left a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants last time I was here,” she adds and follows him to his room, heading for his closet and looking for them. She finds them without a problem, grabs the towels Hajime hands her and goes into the bathroom.

As he waits for her, he turns on the TV. His eyes move to the clock on the wall. It's already some time past eight. They were out for a long while. But it didn't seem like that. Time flew with her and they still have the evening. He wonders what they could do now.

She did say she wanted to watch that movie, so he decides he'll look for some snacks and he remembers Kōshi preparing lemonade the night before, so that could do.

Then, he stops by his room to get clean clothes for himself as well, since he is planning to hop in after her. He wonders how long she'll take.

In that very moment she comes out, hair dry, already dressed.

“You're already done?”

She tilts her head to the side. “Yeah, why?”

“I thought it would've taken you longer.”

“Nah, I didn't wash my hair, so it took me nothing. That would be a different matter.”

“I'll go in then.”

“Go ahead.”

He finds her sitting on the couch later, legs pulled to her chest, hugged by her arms and her eyes fixed on the TV. “I put the snacks on the counter. Why didn't you take them?” She flinches, turns her head to look at them. “Oh, I didn't see. When I came here, the news were up, so... Yeah, I didn't even glance at the kitchen.”

Hajime shrugs. “Don't worry, I'll take them here.”

He takes the tray and proceeds to make his way to here.

“Oh look! They're talking about volleyball! Qualifications for Nationals in Tokyo.”

Green eyes glue to the TV before he's even half way near the couch.

“ _The victory was taken by Tōdai, after an outstanding match between aces.”_

An image of the winning ace is shown. Hajime feels his stomach clench when Wakatoshi appears on the screen, a wave of memories overwhelms his mind – how many times did he lose to him?

“ _The second year setter, Oikawa Tooru, who was given a spot among the regulars, has proven his value today, reminding us of why he got his spot in the National team in his first year of college.”_

Hajime finally sees him.

(Hajime finally starts to remember.)

On the court, surrounded by the players. Lots of hands on his back, smiles, hair ruffling...

Like they used to do once.

Then there is only him, that huge toothy grin plastered all over his face, eyes shining and big – Hajime recognizes the sincerity of it. It's not one of those fake masks that make him want to punch it.

They show the reply of the last action.

Of course, he tossed to Wakatoshi and made him score the winning point.

Hajime feels his hands tremble, and his knees are going weak. That was outstanding.

“Hajime, are you alright?” he hears Keiko ask, and then she is on her feet, in front of him, looking at him worriedly and supporting his hands, about to take the tray in her hands. “Let me take this.”

He shakes his head. “No, make yourself comfortable.” With that, he walks past her, sits on his usual spot and just watches. Todai's coach is being interviewed and is speaking about the current formation, Tooru's perfect synchronization with the other players, Wakatoshi's strength...

Hajime hears none of it.

Fortunately the news finish soon. Keiko notices when he blinks, looking away and running a hand over his face, making it stop over his eyes. She isn't a fool: something's wrong.

Keiko is next to him the second after. “You are pale; is something wrong?”

Hajime hears none of that either.

And then she is reaching out until her hand is on his shoulder, tight, but not enough to hurt, and the reaction is immediate: he jolts, a gasp escaping him as his eyes, wide and _so_ beautifully bright look at her. She withdraws, afraid that she might have hurt him after all, but still repeats it, “Are you alright?”

Hajime licks his lips, swallows the incredible amount of saliva in his mouth. “Yeah... I just... They showed a person I used to know.” He offers her his hand, which she gladly takes. “Who was it? The dark-haired one? Or that cute setter?”

Hajime nudges her with his shoulder, putting slightly and she laughs at the small hint of jealousy. “I'm kidding. He's not my type at all.”

Hajime knows she's telling the truth – she wouldn't be with him if he were. And yet... “That's the one.”

She tilts her head to the side, her expression becoming curious. “Who is he? An old teammate of yours?” _Volleyball_ must be the answer, is the first thing that comes to her mind.

Hajime frees his hand now, brings it back to run it through his hair and then throws his head back to lay it on the top of the backrest of the couch. The plain ceiling becomes the center of his focus. “Yeah, he was my teammate, but also my best friend. We've known each other since we were kids. Out mothers made us meet only a few weeks after Tooru's birth.”

When he hears no interruption from the girl, he continues. “We lived close, went into the same schools, played in the same teams... He was a rather particular person; outgoing, always surrounded by people – girls especially. He pissed me off at times.”

Keiko doesn't fail to notice a fond smile on his face.

“But when we played together...”

“Was he good even then?” Keiko supposes he wouldn't be on TV with a strong, winning team if he wasn't good.

“He was... _more_ than good. He used to push himself to his limits, until he could barely stand. When he wanted to achieve something, he never stopped until he got it, even if it meant injuring himself.”

“Did that happen? The injuries...”

Hajime pulls his head up, turns it to look at her for a brief moment. Then, he looks at the TV, but he isn't really seeing what's on.

“Yeah. He was stubborn. The more I ordered him to contain himself, the more he kept repeating 'one more'. He hurt himself a few times, but fortunately it's never been serious enough to keep him away from playing.” He exhales. “I felt like a babysitter at times, when I had to literally stand between him and the court,” he adds then with a laugh.

Keiko smiles. “You were an intense couple, huh?”

It is an innocent question about their friendship. Hajime knows that. He's never talked to her about him before today – to be honest, he wasn't planning to ever bring him up – so there's no way she could know about their past.

And yet he feels exposed. Even more than he should be.

“We played well together and there were times when I could see what he was thinking and he could see what I was thinking. People used to say we were perfectly in synch. He was much better though. After a while, it became hard to keep up with him.”

“Oh, so he's a prodigy?”

Hajime shakes his head. “Nah, he's just an idiot. A stubborn, hard-working idiot.”

Keiko bursts laughing at that and Hajime laughs with her. Eventually she stops and gets closer to him, until she's sitting on his lap, her legs one at each of his sides and her arms around his neck. “I'm glad I got to know even this part of your life,” she says.

Hajime feels weird, hearing those words...

_She doesn't know._

“Let's make more memories then. The two of us...”

He welcomes her kiss, his hands travel on her waist, pulling her closer. She giggles into the kiss, biting his lip and pressing himself against him as much as their bodies allow them.

She almost yelps when his arms move to support her thighs and he stands up, making her wrap her legs against his hips. He holds her up easily, keeps kissing her as he walks to his bedroom, the space of the apartment already learned by heart after almost two years.

He lays her on the bed, gently, and finally climbs on top of her. He supports his weight with his arms, placed beside her head.

Her kisses are gentle, her lips taste like cherry lip gloss, but Hajime is hungry for more. The burning feeling in his stomach doesn't want to go away, but this seems to keep it down, if only a little.

Her fingers claw into Hajime's muscled shoulders when his tongue assaults her mouth, exploring and tasting every single bit of it – she tastes like chocolate, sweet, but not too much. Just the way he likes it.

He grunts when her back arches, her hips raise until her legs are locked around him once again, her warmth forward to brush against his crotch and he makes her sit up, removing her shirt and throwing it on the floor. She smiles and lets him kiss her cheek and then continue down the path to her neck and left shoulder, nibbling here and there, but not leaving heavy dark marks that wouldn't go away for days and instead leaving a bright red on pale skin; a bright red that will be gone by tomorrow morning.

She chuckles, but the sound is cut of by a soft moan when Hajime's hand cups her breast through her bra. It fits perfectly in his hand, he notices, and it is soft and warm... He can feel the beating of her heart when he concentrates on the touch and it feels so incredible...

He kisses her again, and she kisses back, her hands buried in his dark, spiky hair, messing it even more than it already is. She is rather quiet for now, he muses as he slides down her pants. She lets him remove them, remaining only in her underwear, but when he's about to deprive of those too, she slaps his hands, making him flinch.

“What-”

She shushes him with a finger on his lips, makes him shift and switches their positions so she is on top, straddling his lap all over again. She helps him remove his shirt and proceeds to taste and worship every single part of the new exposed skin, her lips kissing him, her teeth sinking in, her fingers tracing defined muscles like they always do.

Hajime closes his eyes, letting out sounds now. _It feels good._

(But he remembers.)

Her tongue finds his nipple, circles around it teasingly.

(This is not how it used to be.)

She doesn't know.

That sickening feeling isn't going to go away at all, is it?

(Tooru. Tooru... _Tooru-_ )

When her hands start to fumble with the elastic of his pants, something in Hajime snaps. His hands fly forward, trapping her wrists in a vice grip. He isn't looking at her, but he feels her freeze, feels big brown eyes' gaze rest upon him, piercing through him, tearing him apart and looking for answers.

She doesn't know.

And he can't stand it.

“Hajime?”

“I can't.”

Her body relaxes on top of him, her hands fall loose, but he still holds them – he know he'll have to let her go eventually.

“I... I don't understand. We've already done it-”

“I can't. I'm sorry...”

Hesitantly, she frees herself from him, moves back carefully, almost worried, to the other side of the large bed, where she sits, pulling her legs to her chest and doing her best to cover herself. “What's wrong?” she asks, hoping that this time she would get the true answer.

_She isn't a fool._

There is a long moment of silence and when Hajime finally opens his mouth to speak, Keiko interrupts him. “Don't lie to me this time. Please.”

Hajime doesn't dare to look at her. “It's about Oikawa. I- I didn't tell you everything there is to know.”

She doesn't reply; gives him all the silence, attention and time he needs. How he doesn't want to be here right now. He is an idiot.

“We used to be more than friends. He and I... We stopped being 'just friends' when we entered high school.” The words are bitter on his tongue, both the memories and the current situation feel like a thousand punches all over his body. He isn't even sure this is a proper way to start a conversation about this.

He-

“So... You're into boys?”

Hajime doesn't know how to reply to that. He was (is) madly attracted to Tooru, but has ever been attracted to any other of his friends or other men he met at college. “I don't know... I've only ever been with Oikawa. You must think I'm disgusting and-”

“No. Don't put words in my mouth, Hajime.”

The wing spiker stares at her. His blood feels cold in his veins. It's weird. She isn't angry, or jealous... She's quiet.

“I am just so confused right now. I don't even know what I'm doing. I should have kept it for myself, but it felt so weird to be with you and to feel good with you.”

Keiko's lips curve up gently. “It's because you're still in love with him.” Her eyes are not shining anymore, and are instead lowered on the mattress. No, Hajime corrects himself, they are shining. But it's not joy... It's the kind of shine that brings a painful twist in his heart, because he know he's hurt her after-

After everything she's done.

“I really like you, Keiko... I just-”

She laughs, bitterly. And stands up. “Don't look for excuses,” she speaks. “They don't suit you at all. I'm not mad at you, because I should have noticed it sooner.” She picks up the clothes on the floor, wears them one by one, until she is fully dressed.

She takes the rubber band she constantly wears on her wrist and ties her hair into a high ponytail and Hajime watches her for the whole time, not knowing what he's supposed to do.

“Why did he leave?” she asks after she's ready.

“I let him go.”

“That's not what I asked.”

Hajime swallows it. “After a while, it became hard to keep up with him,” he resumes from where he left off. “And in the end, I couldn't follow anymore. I wasn't meant to be by his side until the end. But I still love him. I'll probably never stop and I wanted to tell you before we went further in out relationship.”

Keiko approaches the bed, leans forward until her hands are cupping Hajime's cheek. She kisses him, gently, and then makes their foreheads meet. “Thanks for being honest, though you could have said it a little sooner.” She sounds okay, but her voice cracks at that last part. Because she's already given him everything there was to give.

“I really like you, you know?”

Hajime feels like crying with her, because he knows. He likes her too. He _really_ likes her too and she hasn't done anything to deserve being treated like this. “I'm sorry,” is everything he's able to mutter. He really wants to take her hands into his now, but his body doesn't want to move.

She pulls away, shakes her head and pulls of a grin that Hajime knows it _fake_. “Don't be. It's my fault. I should have noticed.”

“I-”

“Don't,” she cuts it off.

Hajime doesn't try to speak again. He wonders why she isn't screaming at him. Why isn't she angry? “Keiko-”

“Goodbye, Hajime.” Her tears are spilling out freely, and Hajime feels his own eyes burning, but he just can't stand up from that bed to stop her. “I was really looking forward to spend Christmas with you. It's such a shame.” Once again, she means no harm to him. Her words are genuine – she was looking forward to it as much as he was.

And then she's out of the door.

Hajime breathes, but it doesn't feel good. The tenseness of his body disappears and immediately a heavier burden than the one before overwhelms him, an immediate regret following and finishing him off. Realization dawns upon him and the bile starts to raise in his throat.

_What has he done?_

He should be getting up, he should be running after her, ask her for forgiveness, _beg_ her for forgiveness, and yet he's sitting here, like a rock.

Tooru's face flashes in his mind, bright and radiant... That smile of his.

Why can't he move on as well?

He winces when the door to his room opens, a slight hope of Keiko coming back to him. But it isn't her. Because Kōshi appears at the doorstep, his eyes confused and not understanding. “We've met Keiko on the stairs. Why was she crying?”

Hajime hesitates.

“What did you do?” Kōshi approaches him, sits next to him, waits for explanation.

Hajime gives it to him.

Simple and clear.

“I screwed up.”

Beyond the point of no return.

.

Eventually he lets Kōshi drag him in the kitchen, where Daichi is waiting for the same word Hajime told the other, and Kōshi patiently repeats it instead of him. Hajime stares at the floor for the whole time. None of the two comments on it; they don't scold him, judge him or insult him.

They say nothing about it. There is not consolation either, no attempt at comfort or sheering him up and it's okay – Hajime knows he doesn't deserve it.

He sits at the counter as Daichi places a cup of green tea in front of him and they don't speak until the ending credits or the movie on the TV are over.

“I'm organizing a dinner on the 26th of this month.”

Green eyes finally look up at him. “It's your birthday,” he mumbles, states the obvious, but also implicates the question: why is he telling him?

“I'd like you to come too.”

“Even after I was a jerk to Kiyoko's best friend?”

Daichi sighs. “It was your choice. I don't want to question it.”

Hajime so wants to hear something else from him. There were times when Tooru didn't want to hear yelling or scolding, when he thought he was right but even when he knew he was wrong. Hajime wants someone to yell at him too, but he figures out, a few minutes later, that this might be his punishment.

They've tried to make him reason for two years.

Enough is enough.

And yet, Tooru is still the one he's madly in love with.

“Kuroo and Bokuto are going to be here too. I invited them for a friendly reunion. Some guys from Karasuno will come too. It'll be fun – and you need to clear up your head.”

Hajime figures he's got nothing to lose anymore. The damage is done already.

“Sounds fine to me.”

It's not like he made plans anyway.

***

When Tooru opens his eyes, he is immediately met by the light of the outside, peeking through the window and landing onto the bed. He blinks sleepily, recognizing the light color of the clouds covering the whole sky above the city.

They make him despise the idea of getting up today.

Fortunately, there is no work to be done, no subjects to be studied, morning practice was canceled - he isn't required to be out of bed until five o'clock in the afternoon. He watches the clock on what has now become his bedside table letting him know it's eight o'clock and he kind of curses himself for waking up so soon, when he could have slept in without having to care.

Suddenly, he feels shifting behind him and he slowly turns his head and then his body towards the source of it, stirring pleasantly sore muscles as the heavy sheets caress his naked body. When his gaze is set upon the wing spiker laying beside him, he nuzzles into his pillow and pulls the covers up to his chin.

It must be cold outside.

And even though they warmed up the whole apartment – it is even warmer than his mother used to keep their house – Tooru swears he can feel the cold of the street, the heaviness of the humid air...

Wakatoshi turns around about a minute later, gold eyes obviously sleepy, but still sharp as always meet Tooru's hazel. Tooru immediately moves closer, sighing quietly when his hand comes in contact with Wakatoshi's chest. He is pleased to know the other hasn't put anything on either and if it weren't for the uncomfortable laziness overcoming Tooru's whole being, he would certainly be up for another dose of that _great_ sex they had last night.

“Good morning, Oikawa.”

He smiles, his eyes fluttering shut, making him enjoy the fingertips on his cheek, on his lips, on his bruised neck-

“'morning,” he replies quietly and instinctively brings his arms forward, wrapping them around the man, seeking for the only warmth that can make him come undone, make him relax.

Wakatoshi pulls him closer, making their legs a tangle of limbs, the sheets intertwined between them in a way that makes them not want to let go.

“Would you like me to make you breakfast?” the deep voice asks and Tooru whines, fingers pressing harder into the flesh. “Stay here... I don't want to get up.”

“I can bring it here.”

Although the idea of a breakfast in bed is rather tempting, Tooru decides it'll be for another time, because “It's cold.”

Wakatoshi's lips are on his temple, placing a feathery kiss on the sensitive skin. “I don't believe it's true. We-”

“I don't care. Don't you dare to get up from here, Ushiwaka-chan.”

Tooru chants a wordless victory when he feels a warm sigh against himself and to reward him, he pulls away slightly, only to turn his head so their lips are able to meet.

They kiss, but there is none of that burning heat there was the day before, nor it is aggressive or possessive... It is just a lazy, languid brush of lips, slow and wet. Tooru rolls on his back and lets Wakatoshi press him into the mattress gently, his tongue savoring pink lips as the setter's fingers play with the short, dark hair on the back of his head.

They kiss for a long time. Tooru doesn't bother to keep track of time, and instead only focuses on keeping his arms wrapped around the man's neck.

And then they are back on their sides – a large hand on Tooru's cheek and slender fingers on Wakatoshi's collarbone.

Their eyes hold the gaze without them adding words to break the bond and is seems almost endless. Tooru is glad there is no clothing restrain between them, because it makes them feel every single part of each other, the places they have both learned to know during the time they've lived together - though he doesn't want to go further right now; he won't break this rare moment of intimacy, when he can read crystal clear everything Wakatoshi isn't saying to him. He doesn't need to say anything.

He lets Wakatoshi kiss his cheek, then the corner of his mouth.

He is about to meet his lips when a noise rips through them, breaking the silence.

The setter recognizes the ring tone of his phone and groans, rolling onto the other side, so his back is once more facing Wakatoshi. He reaches out for it angrily and glares at the screen, with Tetsurō's name written on it.

He is almost tempted not to answer.

But then... Tetsurō has never called this early in the whole time they've known each other. It must be important.

He presses the green button and brings the item to his ear, letting himself fall on the pillow with the free side of his head. “What the hell is wrong with you, Tetsu-chan?”

“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” comes from the other side with a voice that suggests the presence of an amused grin.

Tooru rolls his eyes. “What is it? Are you dying?”

“Eh? Why do you think so?”

“Because it's fucking eight o'clock in the morning,” Tooru replies,making sure he sounds irritated enough. He barely suppresses a smile when he feels warmth envelope his back as Wakatoshi presses his chest against him, wrapping a strong, heavy arm around him.

“So... Oikawa _-san_ , what are you doing?”

Tooru whines. “I'm in bed.”

“Oho ho? Are you naked?” Tetsurō snickers.

Tooru really wants to throw his phone out of the window – but he would have to get up to open it. Breaking the glass in the middle of winter wouldn't be exactly the smartest thing right now... _Still_. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

There is a moment of silence, which means the middle blocker most likely didn't expect it.

“What is it, Tetsu-chan?”

“Am I interrupting something? Because I swear, I don't want to hear again you and Ushijima fu-”

“ _What_ is it, Tetsu-chan?” He barely refrains himself from sighing when Wakatoshi's lips and tongue are on his nape, a finger pressing against the vertebrae at the base of his neck – he brings his hand back, wanting to push him away because this way he _just can't focus_ , but Wakatoshi takes it in his and keeps it trapped. His lips don't stop.

“Karasuno's ex-captain invited me and Bokuto out for a dinner on the 26th and if I recall correctly, that's the same period when you and Ushijima are going to be in Sendai. Wanna join us? He said we could bring friends, so... Are you interested?”

Tooru blinks. “Karasuno's ex captain, huh?” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Wakatoshi stiffens behind him and his head pops up from behind him, gold focused on him, interested in the situation.

The setter smirks.

“I'll tell Ushiwaka-chan and see what he thinks about it. But I believe we'll be there.”

Tooru laughs when hears Kōtarō yelling from somewhere around Tetsurō. He must have heard them. The middle blocker chuckles. “Can I ask my Captain to find us a place to stay?” he mocks.

Tooru clicks with his tongue. “Bye bye, Tetsu-chan,” he sing songs abd before Tetsurō has the time to finish the insult, he ends the call, putting his phone in silent mode and laying it screen-down on the nightstand.

He exhales and then rolls on his back, gasping when he finds Wakatoshi rolling on top of him, chests presses flush against one another. Wakatoshi kisses him gently, licks his bottom lip and then takes it between his teeth, gently nibbling and pulling.

Tooru hums when he pulls away, gold is lingering on pale skin before Wakatoshi's large body is laying on top of him with its full weight. “What's with you today?” he asks, amused, as he brings his hand on the wing spiker's cheek. “I've never seen you so lazy, cuddly and sleepy at the same time in the morning. You're usually running at this hour. Are you not feeling well?”

Wakatoshi shakes his head against him, lips place another kiss on Tooru's collarbone, before relaxing and burying his face in the setter's neck. “I am fine,” he whispers, voice low and deep and gentle. Tooru spreads his legs to make him feel more comfortable and plays with short dark locks tickling his neck.

“I guess the December weather has its toll on you too, huh?” Tooru asks with a smile, recalling last year's events, when Wakatoshi fell asleep during breakfast while sitting at the counter, head resting against his hand. He remembers trying to give him a mustache with whipped cream, but failing miserably.

They ended up using it for... _other purposes_ later.

Wakatoshi stirs gently, large hands move all over Tooru's sides and legs.

“Want to go for another round?” Tooru asks, tilting his head to the side and offering a small smile. His fingers trace the angry marks on Wakatoshi's back and he wouldn't mind to leave more.

“We have practice later, Oikawa.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

“Sleep. We have time today.”

Tooru nuzzles into the top of his head. “Shouldn't we at least put some clothes on?”

“No.”

Tooru says nothing to that.

“So what did Kuroo want?” Wakatoshi asks immediately, pulling the covers up. Tooru looks at the white ceiling above them. “He asked if we want to go to Sawamura's birthday dinner. It's on the 26th, and that week we're in Sendai anyway.”

Wakatoshi doesn't move. “You want to go?”

Tooru raises an eyebrow. “You don't? It could be an interesting reunion of rivals.”

Wakatoshi grunts. “Aren't you worried that Kageyama Tobio might be there too?”

To be honest, Tooru's been worrying for quite a while about Tobio. This year is his last and he must have gotten great offers from colleges all over Japan. Most likely, his coach even went to talk to him. He is new, having been there for less than four years, and since Todai's never been too much of a sports' college he wanted to change that. And he's succeeding greatly, giving the wonders he's scouted this year too.

Futakuchi Kenji, Watari Shinji, Kawanishi Taichi, _Nishinoya Y_ _ū_.

“So what if he is? At least I can mock him a little. Besides, he's Captain this year, so I need to put him in place.”

“But the school year is going to be over in three months.”

“Details, Ushiwaka-chan...”

There is a long moment of silence after that, and all Tooru can focus on is the thumb caressing the hard muscle covering his ribs. It is so gentle, feathery, almost nonexistent, but Wakatoshi is doing it, worshiping him like he's done for almost two years, every day, constantly...

“Thank you for yesterday. For winning...” the setter mumbles quietly, aware of the piercing gaze on his face as soon as the last syllable is spoken.

“Oikawa-”

“Shh... Enjoy it for once without ruining it with your damn honesty. I won't repeat it a second time.”

A shiver runs through his whole body when Wakatoshi shifts on his legs and hovers above him, skins not touching anymore. Tooru decides not to look at him, and instead rolls to his side, sighing and closing his eyes. He should be getting up to clean the place, but the game was tough.

He feels his fringe being played with, gently intertwined between long fingers, before it is brought behind his ear. And then Wakatoshi is laying back down, his broad chest against Tooru's back like before. Tooru instinctively moves towards him, eyes opening ever so slightly to look at the gray sky above the city.

“Thank you,” Wakatoshi says after a while, and the caresses over his ribs are back, soft and sweet.

Tooru wishes it were sunny. It would resemble his mood much better. Winning against Tokai's Kiryuu, former best wing spiker of the Kyushu region.

Though Tooru has never played against him before, Wakatoshi has; and he was nervous before the match; Tooru saw him like this for the first time ever since they both became regulars - his left hand trembling, his breathing erratic. And yet, he still played as he does all the time, without mistakes or holding back.

Tooru is glad he did.

The others did too.

“ _There are six people on the team!”_

Indeed there are, though Tooru doesn't know why it was Wakatoshi's presence the one that made him feel almost at peace, able to fully enjoy the game. He hopes they make it to Nationals; he wants to win and this was an amazing breakthrough towards the finals.

The only thought of it makes his blood rush and boil with expectation. He can do this.

Wakatoshi is sound asleep by the time the setter focuses back on his surroundings and only then he realizes he must be exhausted. He always acts strong and impassive, but a hard game like yesterday's must have taken its toll on him too. Tooru doesn't fall asleep during the next few hours they spend in bed, but he doesn't fail to make sure Wakatoshi is comfortable enough to rest properly.

Their next game is tomorrow and they can't afford to be tired. He mentally slaps himself, as he should have checked on the other players, on Tetsurō, Kōtarō, Satori...

He can do that later.

He must do that later.

Wakatoshi nuzzles his nape, his breathing muffled by the warmth, but still audible and recognizable. Tooru listens to it carefully, letting it break the silence surrounding them. Wakatoshi is a peaceful sleeper, he concludes. He's never thought about it before, but now he has the time to.

A peaceful sleeper indeed... No snoring, kicking, talking... Just _breathing_.

When an arm wraps around his body, Tooru finds his hand, adjusts the covers up to their chins, and waits.

Eventually he gets up, picks the scattered clothes all around the room and puts them on – he figures he'll pick clean ones later, after the house is clean and he is finished with a nice, steaming, shower. Wakatoshi reluctantly lets go of him, even though he is sleeping, and Tooru finds it endearing.

Cuddly Wakatoshi is sure a sight.

Too bad he doesn't get flustered at Tooru's attempts to tease him.

Oh, well...

It's not like Tooru needs that anymore.

His lips find their way to Wakatoshi's cheek and then he heads to the kitchen to grab a loaf of milk bread, which he eats way too soon for his taste – though it's obvious he would; last night took all of his strength. Afterwords he starts cleaning, begins with the bathroom and then does his room and Wakatoshi (as much as he can without waking him up) and at last the kitchen and the living room.

By the time Wakatoshi wakes up, he is finishing cleaning up the counter and to thank him, Wakatoshi prepares another one of his magic recipes for lunch, the kind that makes Tooru's mouth water at the only smell of it.

Wakatoshi makes sure the food isn't ready until Tooru is out of the shower, clean and composed, with that dashing smile and confidence all over the place. Wakatoshi is glad to see him like this; it suits him so much more than the once constant frown and irritation.

He tells him that – a little less maybe.

And Tooru laughs, kisses him on the lips before he sets the table.

They both haven't felt _this_ good in a while.

For the first time, Wakatoshi starts to consider things.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year guys! I know it's already Jauary 2nd, but I just wasn't feeling well. I've been stuck in bed since the 29th, and I feel so sick I can't even stand up. What a great way to start the 2016, huh? Only I have this amazing luck.
> 
> Here is the 6th chapter though. I'm sorry for this emotional mess. Iwa-chan just makes me want to hurt him. It's not him though... Oh no, it is him. I'm still sorry. I swear I made myself cry - I make up characters to support the story, then I grow fond of them, and then I destroy them like the bad person I am, haha.
> 
> The title is something I though of only after I finished this. I hope you understand its link to the chapter - I mean, it seemed cool in my head, but maybe it's irrelevant or just a poor cliché choice. I don't know... I'm feeling too dizzy to make complicated thinking, haha.
> 
> I hope the UshiOi makes it a little bit better though, without stealing Iwa-chan's moment.
> 
> ***
> 
> Thank you for reading this, for leaving all those lovely Comments, Kudos and Bookmarks. I'm so happy to know people like all the hard work I put into my writing. It gives me strenght to keep it up and write even when I'm stressed or don't have too much time. Thank you, thank you, thank you!


	7. Kings and Knights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Iwaizumi Hajime.”
> 
> His breath hitches in his throat, green eyes grow wide.
> 
> “Ushijima...”

Hajime comes out of the bathroom adjusting the collar of his shirt, and when he glances at the clock in the living room, he curses.

It's already some time past nine o'clock and Daichi and the others must all be already at the restaurant. He promised him he would be there and then he asleep on the couch. He remembers Kōshi waking him up and telling him they were already going to help the waiters with the preparation – Daichi has managed to reserve one of those large rooms, reserved to formal dinners between employees or sports' reunions. He said they wouldn't be more than fifteen – though he didn't really tell him who else is going to be there. Sure, he knows some members of Karasuno won't be missing, but other than them? Daichi didn't really tell him anything.

He takes a hold of his jacket and scarf, checks his pockets to make sure his phone and wallet are there and then heads out, locking the door behind himself.

The restaurant is close, fortunately, so even if he's late, he won't make it worse by walking there.

Tonight's extremely cold. Hajime feels himself shivering despite all the layers of clothes he's put on himself, and as if it wasn't enough, he's had this weird feeling in the pit of his stomach ever since he woke up this morning. He can't quite define it though. It's different from nervousness or anxiety, and he isn't sure if it's a good or bad feeling.

It's been like this ever since he and Keiko broke up, but today's been much worse.

Daichi kept asking him why he wasn't eating and why he was so unnaturally pale. Hajime didn't know what to say to him and fortunately, the other was too busy with the preparations that he had no time to pester him to spit it out.

He hopes this will finish soon, so he can get back home and just sleep.

When he arrives at the restaurant, he doesn't hesitate to get in. A waitress greets him politely and asks him whether he wants to be accompanied to the room, but he thanks her and tells her there is no need for it and instead just listens to her directions.

After she wishes him a good evening, he walks away, but when he turns the corner, he stops abruptly.

At first he thinks his mind might be playing some kind of perverse tricks on him – maybe he is hallucinating, or just imagining it (he's been imagining it for a long time...) or he might be having a nightmare. A very ugly nightmare...

“Iwaizumi Hajime.”

His breath hitches in his throat, green eyes grow wide.

“Ushijima...”

The man is walking towards him, probably coming from the restrooms. His posture always so perfect and intimidating, his jumper clinging onto his strong shoulders and arms, even though it is so large. He has gotten even bigger, Hajime notices. A little taller, but his muscles have gotten stronger considerably. He can see it through his thick jumper clearly.

At least his face is the same.

Those gold eyes are strict and piercing, a cold and impassive expression, so fierce and serious it makes Hajime relive that moment on the court from two years ago.

He is shivering, his fingers are trembling slightly.

Wakatoshi comes to a stop, about a meter away from him. He bows slightly. “Hello.”

Hajime blinks a few times, but then nothing can convince this is not real anymore. He quickly forgets the greeting. “What are you doing here?” he asks, his tone voided of any emotion other than shock.

Wakatoshi straightens up, looking at him sternly for his rudeness, but doesn't comment on it. Instead, he answers the question. “I was invited to Sawamura's dinner. I am surprised you didn't know, since you are his roommate.”

Hajime feels his throat going dry. “He didn't tell me.”

Wakatoshi shrugs, not really bothered by the revelation.

The two stare at each other for a long while, until it dawns on Hajime. He feels his own shoulders stiffening, as a piercing feeling is born at the bottom of his spine. If Wakatoshi's here, then-

“Is... Oikawa here as well?”

“ _Yes._ ”

Hajime gasps. _Just maybe, he-_

“In that room?”

“Yes.”

Hajime's jaw grows tense as he grits his teeth, his body frozen in place and gaze lost on the wooden separation between them.

He can't go in.

He shouldn't go in.

Should he?

Wakatoshi stands in front of him, eyes fixed on his face, as if waiting for Hajime to speak. He does. Because there are so many things he wants to know, his mind overwhelmed by a mixture of feelings that's making him feel dizzy and nauseous. “Is he alright?”

“He is.” Plain and simple, Hajime notices. That man hasn't changed at all.

But-

“I mean, is he _alright_? There is nothing wrong with him?”

Wakatoshi sighs, disappointed; perhaps a little annoyed by Hajime's plain questions. “I said yes. He is well. What are you insinuating?” His voice is so deep and Hajime can't help himself from picturing him and Tooru speaking. He wonders if Tooru's voice is still the same.

He shakes his head. “Nothing. I just want to be sure you are telling the truth.”

When Wakatoshi furrows his brows, Hajime wants to slap himself. If one thing is certain about Ushijima Wakatoshi, given by his experience with him in the past, is that he _never_ lies; he knows that and yet...

He is an idiot.

“What do you want to know, Iwaizumi?” Wakatoshi asks the right question for him and still his answer isn't very specific. “Just the truth.”

Wakatoshi blinks, confused. Hajime notices the extreme self control it takes for him to refrain himself from sighing again.

“He is doing well. He is happy as far as I know. He is surrounded by friends; too many for my personal taste, but this is not about me. He keeps practicing everyday by my side to improve his skills.”

That last sentence hits a nerve. Hajime has to ask it. “Does he still overdo it?”

Wakatoshi nods. “Most of the times. But I stop him before the possibility of him injuring himself comes around.” Hajime swallows; his mouth is suddenly way too wet, too full. “Does he listen to you?”

“Yes.”

Hajime tries his best not to grimace. After a few seconds, he recollects himself, some memories hitting him like a bunch of bullets and tearing him apart bit by bit. “I saw you on TV. You won and they showed you and him...” he begins. He notices Wakatoshi shifting on his feet, leaning most of his weight on his left leg. His legs have gotten stronger too; Hajime can tell by the way his pants tighten around the now tense muscle of his thigh.

Wakatoshi doesn't really have a reply to the other's words. There is no question. So he waits.

“The two of you are doing great, aren't you? I'm glad. Really.”

Gold eyes narrow and a large left hand twitches.

“ _What do you want_ , Iwaizumi?”

Hajime unconsciously takes a step back, uncertain of everything around him. He doesn't know if he should look him in the eyes or look away, or just leave- He looks at him. “You're not beating around the bush aren't you?” Wakatoshi waits and Hajime just wants to die. “Is he alright?”

Wakatoshi does sigh for the second time now. Hajime realizes he has just asked the same question for the third time. “I have already replied to that.”

Hajime brings both of his hands to his face, rubs it gently, ordering himself to keep his cool. “Does he take care of himself?”

“If he doesn't do it himself, I do it for him.”

Hajime almost feels his legs give out as another sting of pain rips through his chest. That used to be his privilege, and he was so happy to have it, even though he never said so. Apparently Tooru isn't able to live on his own, but it seems he doesn't need one _particular_ person to help him out.

Or maybe it's just Wakatoshi.

Hajime wonders just how much he has spoiled him – he's always known he would.

***

_The irritating ring tone makes him curse. He throws his pillow towards the nightstand with a groan, but misses, still too dizzy from his sleep._

_He raises his head after he can't take it anymore (besides, an angry, just awoken Daichi is not a sight he wants to see anymore; once was more than enough), peeking at the digital clock, whose numbers shine bright in the darkness around the room. Hajime wonders who the hell could possibly call at 2.00 am in the middle of the weak._

_What if it's Oikawa?_

_What if something happened?_

_He immediately jumps and takes a hold of his phone and his eyes immediately glue themselves on the screen._

_His jaw drops open, the word “Ushiwaka” written in the middle. His mouth is suddenly dry, his throat burning. He swallows, takes in a deep breath; two. There is a weird sensation in his lower stomach and before he knows it, he is answering._

“ _Ushijima?”_

“ _Good evening, Iwaizumi.”_

_Hajime raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Good evening? It's two in the morning! This is not evening anymore!” he says, but then it hits him immediately. “What is it? Did something happen?” He doesn't know why, but he is starting to panic._

_Did Tooru do something stupid? It's only been a few months since he's been gone from Sendai._

_Hajime swears that if Wakatoshi was careless enough to allow him to hurt himself, he-_

“ _Everything is alright, Iwaizumi.”_

_Hajime exhales, relief overcoming him._

“ _I apologize for the late hour, but I had to make sure Oikawa was sound asleep.”_

_Hajime licks his lips, stands up to retrieve his lost pillow. “Why?” He then returns to the bed and makes himself comfortable, in a half sitting position._

“ _Oikawa's birthday is in three days.”_

 _Hajime feels a lump in his throat making it harder to breathe. Why is he telling him that? Of all people, he should know how much he knows about Tooru, how much he cared,_ cares _for him after all these years. Does he really think he could have forgotten? “I know.”_

_There is a moment of silence between them, and Hajime is almost tempted to ask what the matter it, but then Wakatoshi speaks. “I want to find him a birthday gift he will genuinely like. Unfortunately, I still don't know his personal taste that well, and most of the things he speaks about he already has.”_

_Hajime grows still. “Why are you telling me this?”_

“ _I need your help.”_

_Hajime struggles against his own being not to drop the phone._

“ _What? Why would you-”_

“Please. _I am afraid I do not have much time. Oikawa could wake up at any time.”_

_His breath hitches in hit throat and his eyes start to water. This isn't fair. Wakatoshi should be figuring him out on his own, understand him, know what he needs and-_

_This is just the easy way out, right? He should say no..._

_But then it hits him._

Genuinely happy.

The words he used just now.

Damn him, _Hajime thinks. Because Wakatoshi probably knows all of those things, from first to last. He wants to make it right, because this is Tooru's taste they are talking about._

_Hajime closes his eyes._

“ _Stars.”_

“ _Excuse me?” Wakatoshi asks, the tone of his voice not hiding his confusion._

_Hajime lets out a quiet laugh and throws his head back, looking at the white ceiling of his room. “At home, he still has glow-in-the-dark stars. He's always loved them. At times, he loved them even more than volleyball.”_

_He remembers the way his eyes stared dreamily at the sky adorned with millions of stars, as he lay back on the grass on the hill close to their homes; the way he used to be quiet, still, but despite this state of his, he was irradiating happiness._

_And Hajime has never seen a more beautiful sight._

_His heart clenches painfully at the memory. “You should find them easily, since they sell them pretty much everywhere. Buy a few bags of them and stick it to the ceiling of his room. Try to make a few constellations right and it will be perfect.”_

_He should be doing it instead._

_He hates this._

_But it is for Tooru._

_To make him happy._

“ _Thank you very much, Iwaizumi. Once again, I apologize for disturbing your sleep,” the other wing spiker says and Hajime nods. Then, he remembers he can't be seen. “Don't worry about it.”_

_He takes in a deep breath._

“ _Ushijima?”_

“ _Yes?”_

“ _Don't tell him about this. I want to-”_

“ _I understand,” Wakatoshi interrupts. “Goodnight then.”_

“ _Night.”_

_After the call is ended, Hajime puts his phone in silent mode – he will not be disturbed again – and sinks back into a lying position._

_Even though he wants to, needs to... he doesn't fall asleep anymore._

***

_Daichi comes to his classroom right after the lesson is over._

_Hajime is gathering his belongings in his bag when his phone suddenly buzzes. He looks at the screen, where he finds displayed a new message coming from Wakatoshi._

“Is this good enough?”

_Hajime raises an eyebrow and opens his inbox. Daichi approaches him curiously, having seen the name as well. Then an image appears, and Hajime waits patiently for it to get downloaded.It takes a little while longer than usual, since there is not much field in this particular classroom, but he's always been patient enough._

_The photo loads, displaying itself on the screen._

_Hajime feels Daichi bump his shoulder as he stiffens, eyes wide in shock._

“ _Holy shit.”_

_Hajime feels his body lose all its strength and lets himself fall back into his seat. His eyes stare at the image, a beautiful starry sky painted of the ceiling of what is most likely Tooru's room in their apartment._

“ _Iwaizumi,” Daichi calls, but Hajime doesn't even grace him with a look._

_His lips curve up and he curses him. But he can't deny it is more than he could have ever expected from someone like Wakatoshi. His chest aches, and his shoulders tremble._

_That is more than good enough._

“ _Are you crying?”_

_Hajime shakes his head, wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. “No, It's okay. Something just got into my eye.”_

_Daichi says nothing and finishes to prepare his bag for him._

_They leave without saying a word._

***

“I'm glad he has someone to watch his back. I was worried.”

Wakatoshi shakes his head. “You didn't have to worry. He is with me now, in my team. I watch over him, lend him my strength and in his own way, he does the same.” The explanation is very clear.

Hajime doesn't know how he's able to keep holding himself up on his feet.

But he can't let this chance go by.

He just can't.

“As for the other things? Studies and college stuff?” He hopes his voice won't crack and it's a relief when it doesn't – but his throat hurts. Badly. His eyes burn. _Very_ badly. Wakatoshi doesn't hesitate. “He gives his best. He might be competing with me about some matters because he doesn't know when to give up, but I am not certain of it.”

Hajime does chuckle now. It sounds just like him. “I think he just might be.”

For the first time in his life, Hajime sees Wakatoshi smile. It is just a small curve of lips, but his eyes grow warmer. He must be thinking about Tooru, Hajime figures. He's never been blind, when they were still on the opposite sides of the net. Wakatoshi's always looked at him like that even though their rivalry has always been in their way.

“So... This whole living together is going pretty well, huh?”

Wakatoshi's expression turns back to normal and he shrugs. “Highs and lows. Sometimes he is quite annoying, but we have gotten used to each other by now.”

Hajime takes his time to digest those words. He would've never thought that even talking about Tooru after all this time could be so devastating. But this is everything he can manage to get. He needs it. He needs to know.

He must be some kind of masochist, he figures, as his eyes keep running all over Wakatoshi's body. And he can't help but picture the two of them together, side by side.

Playing together.

Kissing.

 _Fucking_...

Hajime shakes his head gently, trying to shoo the picture of Tooru coming undone underneath the wing spiker. He mustn't think about it. Tooru is not his. Not anymore.

“Has he changed?” he wonders and only when Wakatoshi begins to speak, does he realize he just spoke out loud.

“What do you mean by changed?” Wakatoshi asks, making the other understand just how vague his question is. But Hajime isn't capable of clarifying. He doesn't know what he wants to know about him; he just wants... _something._ He opens his mouth, but no word comes out. He closes it.

Wakatoshi seems to think about it for a moment. “Do you wish to know if he has changed physically?” Hajime doesn't say yes or no, but Wakatoshi says it anyway. “His muscle mass has improved along with his strength; he has grown broader than he was before he left. He is still lean though, unlike me.” He pauses for a second, before his eyes soften. “His knee hasn't given him problems since the first night he came to me, two years ago. He is still careful about it, and I am too. I won't let him overwork it.”

Hajime just stares. Why does it sound so easy, coming from him? If what he's saying is true... Why does Tooru listen to him? Why couldn't it be simpler when he was still with him?

Before he knows it, Wakatoshi is speaking again. “As for his personality, I must admit he has started to grow more mature when it comes to his grudges and pride. The different city and the new people around him made him become more versatile, though in some aspects, he is exactly as you left him.”

Hajime's lips twitch. His nails are digging in his palm and it hurts so badly... He needs more, but... What else could he possibly ask? Should he even? He's already feeling like shit; won't knowing more make it worse?

“Is that all? I should head back.”

Hajime blinks, torn away from his thoughts.

There is one thing that came out from all those deductions and wonders.

_He craves to see him._

He wants him back in his life.

He wants to catch up with him, let him tell him everything about his new life in Tokyo... He wants to play volleyball with him, hit those divine tosses until his palms are red and burning, until his legs are begging for mercy.

He wants to-

He takes a step towards that door, his eyes glued on that handle.

The next thing he sees, is Wakatoshi, standing between them, eyes glaring and his whole being watching over him.

“ _No._ ”

It doesn't come out loud, or mean. Wakatoshi is always polite, even when he is forbidding something. Hajime knows he is forbidding him this, but he realizes it only once he finally figures out that he took a step forward. He looks at him, and his gaze holds a strong mix of confusion and raw desperation that makes his bones feel like they could shatter at any moment.

“What?”

Wakatoshi crosses his arms over his chest. “You cannot see him.”

Hajime feels a lump in his throat.

“Why?”

Wakatoshi's lips press into a thin line. “Because it is better this way. He is alright, both physically and psychically. Let it be enough for you, Iwaizumi Hajime.”

Hajime lets out a bitter laugh, eyes looking away, towards the bar, where the waitresses are running all over the place, trying to serve all the clients as soon as possible. He doesn't really see them though. “I...” Tooru is everything he sees. His memories flood his head and make him weaker than ever.

“I don't think it's enough to me... Not after everything you've told me.”

Wakatoshi stiffens, but it's not uncomfortable. He adjusts his posture even more, imposing himself almost menacingly. Hajime can't find the strength to be afraid, but he steps back, wanting to walk around him.

“ _'Please, take care of him.'_ Isn't this exactly what you asked of me _that_ night?”

Hajime's blood freezes in his vein. He hopes it will make his heart stop, or explode, so he could be put out of his misery. He wants to disappear...

There are so many things he wants to do.

He hates wanting. Especially when he can't get it. Especially when it comes to Tooru...

“You were selfish; you put a burden on my shoulders and disappeared for two years.”

“I texted you countless times!”

“You were never a fundamental piece in my life, Iwaizumi. But don't misunderstand my words. Even if you hadn't asked, I would have done it anyway. And I am still doing it the best I can, so I will not let you ruin it just because you are having worthless regrets you could have avoided.”

Hajime just stands there, lets all those words tear him apart, piece by piece.

“You will not enter that room tonight.”

Hajime swallows.

His mouth is suddenly very dry.

“Alright.”

Wakatoshi is right.

He's always been. He's always known what's best for the man Hajime's loved for his whole life. He's always been the best choice. Tooru doesn't deserve to have his world crumble down all over again.

He bows in front of the man, thanks him so quietly he can barely hear himself, but Wakatoshi acknowledges it.

“Goodbye,” Hajime adds and finally turns on his heel, heading back to where he came from.

He takes a mental note to apologize to Daichi tomorrow morning, prepare his favorite breakfast perhaps.

When he is out of the restaurant, the cold air hits him again, making his whole being cringe and shiver. He decides not to go home. He doesn't want to think about it; he really needs a drink. Or two. Maybe more than two.

Definitely more than two.

He starts to walk to the opposite side from where he came from and when he reaches the last window of the place, he casually looks to his side.

His eyes widen.

It's _their_ room.

_Tooru is here._

_Tooru is here._

_Tooru is here._

Wakatoshi is entering the room, walking to the spot next to the setter and then lowering on the floor to sit there. Gold eyes meet Hajime's, and a strong arm is instinctively wrapped around Tooru's lower back, pulling him closer.

Hajime sees Tooru look at the wing spiker, a playful grin on his face. He must be asking him what's with the sudden action, but Wakatoshi shuts him up with a gentle kiss on the forehead, that startles pretty much everyone around them, from Daichi and Kōshi to Tobio and the other members of Karasuno.

The only two who don't seem surprised are the Nekoma's ex-middle blocker and Fukurodani's former ace.

Hajime takes this time to observe every detail he can possibly spot.

Tooru has grown. Wakatoshi was right – he looks stronger; his shoulders and chest are larger, his arms seem stronger too...

He looks... _healthy._

And _happy._

(He is gorgeous.)

Despite his sadness and regrets, Hajime smiles. He feels tears forming in the corner of his eyes, threatening to spill at any moment now.

He really is a coward.

But it's better like this.

_It's better like this._

He sees Wakatoshi looking at him, giving him a small, almost imperceptible nod, and Hajime knows it is time to go. (He doesn't want to.) He takes one last, longing look at the man he is still so hopelessly in love with and leaves without turning back.

***

“So, Tobio-chan, what are you doing after high school?” Tooru asks with a smirk, curious to hear what his underclassman is going to say.

Tobio frowns at the tone of voice – as much as he respects the other setter, it still pisses him off to no end to be treated like a child. “I have been offered a spot in the National team, Oikawa-san. And please stop calling me that.”

Tooru lowers the glass he was holding, his eyes narrowing. “Oh, you did?”

Tobio nods. “Yes, but I'm waiting to finish high school. I don't want to go to the under-18 team,” he tells him and a vein pops on Tooru's forehead. “How arrogant of you, Tobio-chan. You'll have to learn to smile if you want to join my team.”

“It is not yours, Oikawa-san. You were picked the same way I was picked. It was nothing special.”

Tooru smirks. Tetsurō and Kōtarō move away with a quiet “ouch” and Shōyō tilts his head to the side, in confusion. Especially because Wakatoshi seems to stiffen too. Kei chuckles and Kōshi and Daichi give their best not to react and prepare for an eventual come up from the situation.

Instead Tooru leans back, clearly amused, a certain nickname flashing through his memory. “I hope you are not coming to Tokyo with that attitude, _King._ ”

Tobio freezes, the hold on his glass grows tighter. Tooru wonders if he is strong enough to break it. Maybe he could try and tea-

Wakatoshi's hand is placed on his thigh, under the table, and Tooru decides not to voice the next provocation. The others don't really pay them attention, except for Kōtarō, who stares at Tooru in confusion. “Why are you so bitchy around him?” he asks.

Tooru clicks with his tongue and looks at him. “I am not bitchy. Tobio-chan is just not cute and I hate things or people that are not cute.”

Kōshi lets out a quiet laugh. “From what I know, this goes back to an old rivalry in middle school, am I correct?”

Tooru raises an eyebrow. How can he possibly know that? Before he has the possibility to open his mouth and ask, Tobio nods. “Oikawa-san's always been hostile towards me. I've never understood why though,” he explains.

Tooru glares at him.

 _Because you are a genius. Stupid, but still a genius in what matters,_ he thinks, but he knows that if he says it out loud, he will admit openly that that one particular wound has never healed even after all these years. It probably never will, until one of them stops playing volleyball.

Tetsurō joins the conversation with a smirk. “So our Oikawa-san still doesn't know how to let go of his grudges. How usual...”

“Shut up.”

“But from what you told me, the Grand King used to hate Ushijima too, and now they are together!” Shōyō shouts all of a sudden, clearly speaking to Tobio, but it is loud enough to bring all the attention to them even more. Tooru feels his cheeks flush slightly – he won't look at Wakatoshi for the next hour; he mustn't.

“Yeah, but he doesn't want to make peace with _me_!” Tobio says, clearly irritated.

Shōyō blinks, tilts his head to the side, as if in thought. “Why do you care so much? Do you want to be with him as well perhaps?”

Silence dawns in the entire room, lingering heavily around everyone as wide eyes stare first at Shōyō and then at Tobio, who suddenly stops breathing.

Tooru sees his face turning into a bright red color.

“What? Did I say something wrong?”

“HINATA, YOU DUMBASS!” Tobio shouts, punching him in the shoulder. “How the hell does that head of yours even jump to these conclusions?!” He means it, everyone knows it. But the bomb's been dropped and, Tobio figures, there are way too many people who were just begging for an occasion like this.

“So... The King is in love I see,” Kei mutters.

And it's done.

Kōtarō grins. “Oho?”

“Oho-ho...” Tetsurō concludes, along with his cat-like smirk. “You Miyagi folks are _very_ interesting people indeed.”

“We are not! How can someone like you even fall for that, Kuroo-san?!”

Tooru lets out a delighted laugh, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh, Tobio-chan, don't be shy. I am flattered by your feelings, but I thought it was clear that I-”

“Oikawa-san, please stop,” Tobio says.

“-am already taken.”

Tetsurō elbows him in his side. “Maybe he wants a polyamorous relationship. Didn't you mention that he once attempted to take Shiratorizawa's entrance exam but failed? Maybe he's after Ushijima instead, what do you say?” he jokes.

Tooru laughs at that, even more than before. “No... Tobio-chan's always had eyes for me and me only. I know he's wanted me since middle school; he always kept staring.”

Tobio tries to jump into the conversation, tries to ask them to stop, but they just don't.

His body grows incredibly still when his blue eyes finally meet Wakatoshi's. His parted lips press into a thin line and his blood feels cold. His hands clench into tight fists and hide under the table and, among the confusion, they keep staring at each other.

All of a sudden, as the Tokyo players, along with Kei and Shōyō, keep discussing, Tooru stops. He doesn't miss Tobio's petrified expression and immediately follows those blue eyes' stare.

He winces all of a sudden, as Wakatoshi's hand - the one that's still on his thigh - claws onto his pants, his fingers digging into the flesh almost painfully. Tooru mentally curses himself; he shouldn't have forgotten.

His own hand wraps itself against Wakatoshi's wrist and squeezes it ever so slightly, but it's enough for him to let go and focus his attention on him. Tooru gives him a reassuring smile and a knowing look, the one that wonders why the hell he is feeling threatened.

Wakatoshi blinks and then closes his eyes, exhaling quietly.

As the minutes go by, the jokes and teasing come to a stop. The waitresses bring the food until the table is completely full of all kinds of dishes and when they are gone, Tooru wishes a happy birthday to Daichi, followed by all the others.

“Let's eat before it gets cold,” the ex-Captain of Karasuno says and as soon as he finishes talking, they do as he said. As they eat, the atmosphere softens. They talk, yes; but it's about nice things – college, practice and new meetings.

Tooru doesn't mention Hajime. He doesn't even ask if anyone else knows anything about him – he suspects Daichi and Kōshi know everything, but decided not to mention it.

As much as he is curious, he doesn't ask.

(Even though a part of him wishes Hajime was here. He doesn't want to ask questions or yell at him for ignoring him for two years... He just wants to know if he is alright. Catch up maybe.)

When the plates on the table are all empty, Daichi orders drinks for everyone, non-alcoholic because he says he doesn't really want to babysit ten drunk babies, cause he has plans after dinner.

Tooru doesn't fail to notice the way he looks at Kōshi and smiles in understanding. He doesn't want to drink – he barely takes more than two drinks ever since the first time he got drunk. He remembers feeling sick for the whole day, and had to skip practice, so he decided never to repeat that same mistake again.

Wakatoshi settles with mineral water.

Tooru takes some from him from time to time; it tastes better than the juice he chose.

As the evening goes by, they talk about different topics, laugh... Daichi explains that he is planning to go on a trip with Kōshi on his actual birthday, so they can celebrate New Year's Eve together. Shōyō manages to spill the mineral water while pouring it in Wakatoshi's glass and fortunately, most of it ends on the table instead of Wakatoshi's clothes. When it happens, Shōyō panics, his words incoherent under Wakatoshi's stoic stare.

Eventually Tobio hits the back of his head, calls him a dumbass for the umpteenth time and pours it properly instead of him.

Tooru observes him.

He has changed so much since their last match. He seems more mature, even though his head is empty of all things but volleyball and yet... Tooru feels his opinion of him change. He doesn't know if it's because his team is now stronger and has all the power he needs to back him up for matches of the highest of levels, or maybe it's because of Wakatoshi. Or maybe he just grew up...

But the grudges he's always felt towards him, all the jealousy and anger directed towards his talent... They are fading. Slowly. But they are.

If Tobio has been offered a spot in the National team, then they are going to play for the same side once again.

So _what if_ -

He'll have to make it work this time.

He has no choice.

He instinctively slides closer to the wing spiker, hoping he isn't going to be noticed. If Wakatoshi does notice him, he doesn't mention it. Tooru is glad for that. He needs to stand up again.

“So, Tobio-chan...”

The younger setter looks at him.

“Jokes aside. Do you have a girlfriend?”

Tobio frowns, looking away. Tooru finds it quite amusing. Shōyō laughs at the question. “He actually gets lots of confessions since we became seniors. But he makes them all cry before he even manages to open his mouth.”

Tooru laughs at that. “Why is it nothing new to me?”

“He doesn't even want to reject some of them. But they leave anyway.”

“Shut up, Hinata!”

Tooru speaks over him. “I guess he still only has eyes for volleyball. I remember him watching the ball as if it was some kind of God.”

“He still does.”

“I don't!” Tobio says.

Tooru keeps smiling, but doesn't add anything else. Though, he does notice a certain similarity to that look when he looks at Shōyō. Being the idiot he is though, he probably doesn't see him as anything more than a volleyball player, his strongest weapon.

Tooru bets he boasts with him on court; he did when they were first years, why wouldn't he now that they are even better?

Tooru concludes it must be because he is getting tired.

There is no other explanation.

There is no way he could possibly be looking forward to next year. Not when the genius is coming back.

***

When they decide to leave, it is already dark, but it isn't too late. Tetsurō and Kōtarō say they want to go for a walk around Sendai before returning to their hotel. The high schoolers have to return home, while Daichi and Kōshi have to run a couple more errands before they return to their own homes as well.

Daichi thanks them for coming, especially to the folks from Tokyo, who, except for Tooru and Wakatoshi whose families are in Sendai, came here especially for him.

Slowly, everyone starts to leave.

First the Karasuno team, then the ex members, then Daichi and Kōshi. Then Tetsurō and Kōtarō.

Until there are only Tooru and Wakatoshi.

They stand there for a long while, watching at the others' backs until they are all gone.

Then, Tooru finally moves, places himself in front of the wing spiker, receiving a look of gold. It waits.

“What was that?”

Wakatoshi tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

Tooru narrows his eyes. “That claw on my leg and the way you looked at Tobio-chan for the whole evening.”

Wakatoshi's jaw visibly tenses and this becomes one of the rare times when he doesn't have an answer. He just stares at Tooru, raises an eyebrow when he approaches him, sliding his arms underneath Wakatoshi's and gripping the back of his jacket.

He is smirking.

“Are you perhaps jealous, Ushiwaka-chan?”

Wakatoshi doesn't think about it twice.

“ _Yes._ ”

That seems to take the setter by surprise, because he gasps and those hazel eyes widen. Still, he doesn't pull away. They stand close to each other and nothing else matters; it feels as if time stopped and everything disappears in a blink of an eye.

Tooru has never seen him like this.

Maybe once, when Sakusa and his success abroad was mentioned on the TV a few weeks ago. They were lying on the couch, watching TV, and the news started. Tooru remembers the way Wakatoshi's hands clenched into fists on his abdomen, and the way neither his own hands couldn't calm him down.

He felt himself being pulled closer, so he rested his head on a strong shoulder until Wakatoshi relaxes.

He never asked.

He doesn't need to.

He understands more than well.

That's why he doesn't mock him and instead smiles, as a warm feeling spreads in his chest. “You shouldn't be worried about someone like him,” he says and only after another minute, does he finally pull away.

“Let's go home.”

He doesn't wait for the wing spiker when he starts to walk, but when he doesn't hear his steps behind him, he turns around, his smile even bigger, truer. He returns to him, takes a hold of his hand and leads him away.

***

Wakatoshi's mother welcomes them into her house with a smile. When they got to Sendai, Tooru insisted on splitting so he could sleep at his house, but in the end they decided to organize themselves and spend half of the nights at Tooru's and the other half at Wakatoshi's.

They find a tray of freshly baked chocolate cookies, which immediately catch Tooru's eyes and, once he tries them, his heart too. Wakatoshi thanks her for making them so late just for them – he knows they have been pulled out of the oven less than half an hour ago; they are so warm - when she puts them on a plate and tells them to bring it to his, _their_ bedroom.

And Wakatoshi is glad.

Because despite her authoritative behavior around people she doesn't quite know, she liked Tooru ever since he stepped into their house and was seen by her. Maybe it's because she's always known about her son's feelings for him – after all, when he was asked about volleyball, all he ever talked about was him - or maybe it's because of Tooru's natural talent when it comes to charm.

Tooru takes another cookie and then bows and wishes her goodnight, excusing himself first.

Wakatoshi stays with her a while more, heading to the cupboard to pull out a teapot and cups and then heading to the cookers, ready to prepare some green tea to bring along.

“He is an exceptional man, Wakatoshi,” she says when she stands next to him.

Wakatoshi's restrains fall at those words and he smiles; in a way only his mother has ever seen him do. “Indeed he is,” he tells her without thinking. _Indeed he is._ Everyday he grows more certain of it.

“I am glad to know you are happy.”

Wakatoshi nods, his expression still the same.

“Your father would be proud if he met him.”

“I wrote to him about Oikawa quite much since we moved in together.”

His mother nods, sitting at the table when she realizes Wakatoshi doesn't need her, and her eyes lose themselves somewhere in the living room, though not really looking at anything. Her hands rest on her lap and she makes sure Wakatoshi can't see them trembling.

“Make sure he is as happy as you are.”

Wakatoshi stops in his actions, but doesn't turn around.

He doesn't need to.

“Always.”

They don't speak as the water boils, nor when Wakatoshi prepares the brew, nor when he pours it into the cups. Before he sets everything on a tray, he bends over his mother, placing a gentle kiss on the crown of her head. He hears her let out a laugh, something she rarely does, only when she is truly happy.

Wakatoshi then makes his way to his room, careful not to drop anything when he opens the door. There, he finds Tooru already dressed in his pajamas, sitting comfortably on their futon, DVD-s of their old games in his hands. He glances at the wing spiker to acknowledge him and then returns to look at the colored boxes in his hands.

Wakatoshi sets food and drinks on his desk when Tooru speaks. “We should take these with us.”

Gold eyes look at him, find a fond gaze of hazel lost in memories.

“I want to watch them again. All of them. Tetsu-chan and Kō-chan would love them as well! What do you say?” As he asks the last question, he looks up, meeting Wakatoshi.

“As you wish.”

Tooru nods and proceeds to put everything back into place – they can pack everything properly tomorrow – while Wakatoshi heads to his closet and pulls out an old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. He wears them slowly, adjusting his other clothes over the chair, and when he is fully dressed, he finally heads to their mattress.

He figures he should have told his mother to buy a guest futon, since this is still the one he used to sleep on when he used to live here.

He can't help but remember the first time he and Tooru slept on it together, when he came to him injured and cold and wet; it was cramped. They have both grown even more because of the constant practice, so there will be even less space, but he can't say he minds. How could he even, when they've been sharing the same bed for almost two years?

He lowers on his legs and makes himself comfortable next to his setter, who is reaching out for yet another cookie. “Your mother is awesome,” he tells him after taking a bite. “We should bring her to Tokyo with us. These cookies are so good!”

“I am capable of making them too.”

Tooru's jaw drops open. “So why didn't you make them until now?”

Wakatoshi tilts his head to the side. “You never asked.”

“I didn't _know_ you are capable of making cookies!”

“I suppose you are right. I will prepare some when we return to our apartment then.”

Tooru smirks, content with his victory, and then takes a sip of his tea before lying down on his back and letting out a pleased sigh. “I'm tired,” he tells him. “Tobio-chan really stole all of my strength.”

“You were the one who constantly kept teasing him.”

“Mean, Ushiwaka-chan!”

Wakatoshi raises an eyebrow. “I am only telling the truth.”

Tooru pouts. “I know.” He lies down finally, resting his head into Wakatoshi's lap after putting a pillow on it, letting out a sigh and closing his eyes. Wakatoshi shifts, moves until he is sitting in the proper position to make him feel comfortable enough, before he takes a hold of his own cup. Tooru doesn't move – Wakatoshi knows he will fall asleep soon. With his free hand, he caresses brown locks, gently playing with them, intertwining them between his fingers.

From where he sits, he can see a trace of a smile, so he keeps going with his ministrations.

“Oikawa.”

“Yes?”

There is a moment of silence, while Wakatoshi considers it. Telling him would be the right thing to do. It would be honest, as he has always been and he knows Tooru would want to know.

And yet.

“It is nothing important.”

Tooru hums and Wakatoshi watches his body grow still.

***

Counting the empty glasses has never been so hard. Hajime can't say he's never drunk before – cause he has; quite a lot actually. Tonight though, he feels more out of it than usual, even though there are less glasses than there were the last time.

His eyes travel from transparency, to his hands, rested onto the counter, to his phone, placed next to them, showing the same message over and over and over.

Daichi must be mad at him.

“Where are you?”

“Is everything alright?”

“Call me.”

He ignored all of those texts and even though he did, they still keep coming. Along with the calls – he can't believe he didn't pick up after the twenty-third. But then, he tells himself, even if he had picked up, what would he have said?

The memory of Ushijima Wakatoshi standing in front of that door, a strength greater than the ones he remembers coming from the volleyball court. What would have happened if he insisted more?

What would Tooru have said?

Another message pops on his screen and it is the damn time Hajime finally shuts his phone, stuffs it into his pocket and orders another drink. The bartender raises an eyebrow, but still gives it to him, along with a glass of water. He doesn't tell him to drink it, but Hajime figures it out. He empties it in one go and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes closed as he feels relief pouring into him.

“Is this seat free?” he hears a voice ask.

He mumbles a quiet yes, not even bothering to turn around to see who's there. He plays with the glass of long island iced tea in front of him, pokes the ice cubes with the straw, almost hesitant to drink it.

“You drank quite a lot,” the voice from before comments and Hajime just shrugs. “I guess...” He is almost tempted to pull out his phone from his pocket again, but then he realizes the conversation isn't over.

“Wait, are you... Iwaizumi Hajime from Aobajōsai?”

The name of his former high school makes him blink, eyes flying open wide; his hand takes a strong hold of the tall glass and he doesn't want to turn to his side. He doesn't want more memories to flood his mind. “Why are you asking?” he asks, and when he finally feels a light touch on his shoulder, does he finally look to his side.

Surprisingly, in his hazy mind, he feels alright with the sight in front of him.

The guy smiles slightly, adjusting his light brown fringe with his hand and then orders a drink for himself, the same that Hajime has in front of him.

Hajime just stares, shoulders heavy and lips parted.

“Are you- I don't remember your name. But you used to play in Shiratorizawa, didn't you? As Ushiwaka's setter.”

The man's lips curve up ever so slightly.

“Yeah, it's me.” he offers him a hand. “Shirabu Kenjirō; it's been a while.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I know... 
> 
> I'm late. I know.
> 
> As I already mentioned, I am suffering of a terribel writer's block - you can't even imagine my struggles to finish this chapter. But here it is! I apologize for making you wait. I hope you will enjoy it.
> 
> And if you were starting to wonder, yes; I enjoy making Iwaizumi Hajime suffer. It is the purpose of my whole writing career, haha. Okay, jokes aside. I hope you will appreciate what I wrote and understand all the motivation behind Ushijima's behavior.
> 
> -
> 
> To those who were expecting the IwaOi reunion, I apologize; I enjoyed reading all your comments, but I noticed that except a few people, everybody forgot about a very important detail about them that I put in the first part of the story. So yeah... It took everything I had not to spoil anything, haha. 
> 
> I hope you don't mind.
> 
> ***
> 
> Thank you so much for all the Comments, Bookmarks and Kudos. I appreciate them dearly! See ya at the next update!


	8. And Maybe We're Moving On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their getting to know each other lasts barely three months.
> 
> Hajime doesn't know how or why, or what could have possibly turned a drunk fuck into a relationship. It is not like him, not when he's spent the better part of his childhood, no, all of his childhood looking after Tooru, taking care of Tooru, kissing and making love to Tooru, because he's always been everything he's ever wanted.
> 
> And yet, now he finds himself lying on his bed, a different setter than Tooru underneath him placing gentle kisses on his lips; humble kisses that Hajime strangely loves enough to want more.

“ _Shirabu Kenjirō; it's been a while.”_

***

The first realization that dawns on him as he opens his eyes is that his head hurts badly.

He sighs heavily, almost afraid to sit up, because he knows that the moment he does, he will start to feel like shit, and seeing his condition, he figures he must have been so wasted that he won't be able to move properly for the whole day - his eyelids are still heavy and there is a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach that's telling him he'll have to throw up soon. But not yet.

He blinks a few times, trying to recollect his thoughts and memories (at least the number of drinks he had) from the night before.

And _dammit_.

He doesn't remember a thing.

His room is unusually warm though, and oh so pleasantly dark. He is tempted to stay in bed for a little while more. It's not like he has something to do anyway since it's Sunday.

He closes his eyes and falls into another dreamless slumber.

***

“ _Sorry, I didn't remember. I... I'm a little wasted._ Very _wasted,” he corrects himself immediately, trying to pull off a joke, but Kenjirō doesn't really fall for it or laugh. Instead, he raises an elegant eyebrow, tilting his head to the side and turning his body to face him after ordering a long island ice tea for himself._

_Hajime isn't looking at him, too busy counting the glasses in front of him, but his vision is a little cloudy and his head is spinning a bit too much for his taste – it means he will have to stop soon. He doesn't really want to._

“ _So,” Kenjirō begins. “What's made you so miserable to make you empty six glasses.”_

“ _There are eight.”_

“ _No, there are six.”_

 _Hajime blinks._ Are there, really? _He shakes his head slightly, because whether they're six or eight... He's had too much for this evening to end up in an even remotely good way._

_Before he is able to open his mouth, the bartender is placing a tall glass filled with water in front of him. He raises an eyebrow and hears Kenjirō speak, “Drink it all.”_

_Hajime looks to his side and finds the other sitting closer to him now and he takes a hold of the glass, brings it to his lips and swallows it down in one go. He hears a quiet praise and cracks a small smile, before asking for another dose and doing the same with it._

_He doesn't know how it happens, but he seems to be feeling better – at least keeping the balance on his seat is easier and his senses aren't useless. His eyes narrow – his eyelids are heavy, yes, but he isn't tired. The music in the background makes him relax, gently making him lean closer to the other boy._

“ _So, are you going to answer my question?”_

_Hajime nods, the whole beginning of the evening hitting him like bricks._

“ _Oikawa.”_

***

When he regains consciousness for the second time, he finally looks to his side, taking a good look of the small digital clock on his bedside table, whose red numbers are telling him it's half past eleven in the morning. Quite late indeed, but the idea of standing up isn't tempting at all.

After a little while spent on staring at the clock, he finally noticed a glass and an aspirin behind it, waiting for him.

He licks his dry lips and, after hesitating a bit, he finally decides to sit up. Surprisingly, it isn't as painful as he thought it would be – sure, his head hurts, but it's not that usual pain and dizziness that he used to go through when he first started to have nights like this.

He swallows the pill and then the water, exhaling in relief. It shouldn't take too long before they start having effect.

He wonders how he got here af he throws the covers off his body.

The second realization of that morning is that he is completely naked. He wonders why he's noticing it only now - the feeling of the covers brushing over his naked body is usually unmistakable – and frankly, he can't believe he didn't even put his underwear on.

Then he looks around the room, inspecting it carefully – as careful as he can be in the darkness at least - and when he takes a closer look, he notices there are way too many clothes scattered on the floor.

One shirt only – and even though he wouldn't swear on it, it doesn't appear to be his - but lots of other garments.

He swallows hard at that.

_Could it be-_

***

“ _Oh, now I understand.”_

_Hajime sees the boy's mouth move, saying something his foggy mind isn't capable of comprehending in that moment, but they drift closer with every passing second – he isn't sure if it's Kenjirō who is constantly appoaching him , or if it's himself who is just attracted by the heat of the younger boy's body or the faint redness gracing the pale skin of his cheeks._

“ _What is it?” Kenjirō asks quietly and Hajime feels his warm breath over his cheek._

“ _I don't know.”_

_He really doesn't._

***

The first place he heads to is the bathroom, where he throws his stomach and soul out, his hands gripping his head almost angrily – when has it become so heavy?

He takes a mental note to take another pill, because this one didn't stay operative in his body for more than half an hour.

When his stomach is empty, he sits back on the tiled floor, leaning himself onto the wall for support, and stands up only several minutes later, when he is breathing normally again and when he doesn't feel like he could drop unconscious any moment.

There are voices coming from the kitchen.

He wonders if he's imagining things (it wouldn't be the first time).

***

_Somehow, as the night goes on and Hajime empties his fourth glass of water, Kenjirō's hand finds a way to Hajime's waist, lowering until his slender fingers (Hajime couldn't imagine them any different) are intertwined with Hajime's belt loops, gently pulling and teasing._

_The place has grown more crowded, and Hajime is struggling to listen – the music too loud and the chatter too intense – and tilts his head to the side, moves it closer, eyes fixed on the setter's lips._

_His mouth is watering._

“ _I...”_

_He feels something bump into his shoulder and when he turns around to see what it is, he finds a cute girl apologizing to him, a faint blush on her cheeks, her gaze unfocused; she is as drunk as he is, if not worse. He waves her off and doesn't watch her walk away to the toilets with another boy, and instead focuses back on what is important._

_He finds Kenjirō swallowing the last bit of his drink and giving a few bills to the bartender. He notices he's giving him way more money than he should, for the drinks that he's gotten that is. He opens his mouth to speak, to ask, but Kenjirō cuts him off._

“ _Tonight's on me,” he tells him._

_Hajime really wants to complain, but the tug on his belt is stronger now, the grip firmer._

_Green meets hazel and his lips close._

“ _Let's go,” the setter says._

_Hajime nods, his blood rushes in his veins and he is sure it's not just the alcohol's doing._

_***_

When he comes into the kitchen, he is greeted by an already cheerful Kōshi and Daichi, but his eyes don't see them. Sure, he greets them back, his voice raw from sleep and he can't help but let out a grunt when his head feels about to explode again.

“Good morning, Iwaizumi-san.”

Kenjirō sits at the counter, next to his roommates, a cup with freshly made coffee, whose smell has spread all around the room, held between his hands, still steaming hot. It takes him less than ten seconds to realize he is wearing one of his t-shirts. His underwear is visible even though the garment is rather large for him.

“Morning,” he mumbles and hesitantly walks over to the counter, his mind dizzy, but desperately trying to cling to even a piece of his memories from last night – because he doesn't remember _a thing._

He feels his roommates' eyes glued onto him, asking for explanations and he can only reply with a small shrug of confusion before he manages to sit in front of the setter. He meets his eyes, so warm and perhaps understanding; Kenjirō doesn't say a single word.

Daichi finishes to set the table, handing to Hajime his breakfast. He then adjusts the collar of his shirt and looks at Kōshi. “Ready to go?”

Hajime's widen. “Go? Where?”

Daichi raises his eyebrows. “Wow, you are really out of it. We have to buy a few things before we leave for our trip, remember?”

His boyfriend nods. “I'll leave him in your hands, Shirabu-san. I do believe you have certain matters to discuss in private anyway.”

Kenjirō nods, standing up and bowing slightly. “Don't worry about that. Thank you for the food.”

And then they go behind the wall dividing the entrance from the open space; there is some shuffling of jackets and shoes, during which Hajime only holds his breath, not really knowing where to look.

Then, the door is being shut close.

It brings space to silence.

Hajime licks his lips slowly and then glances to the other man, who is calmly slipping his coffee, hazel eyes lost on a certain title on the newspaper next to him.

There isn't really something he wants to say – sure, he would really like to know how things went the night before, but he can't deny the fear of knowing that, if he finds out, it will all became just a tad more real; and after the brief conversation with Wakatoshi, he isn't sure he would be able to handle it.

Not now that he broke Keiko's heart in order to preserve his obsessive love for Tooru.

He-

He screwed up.

Right?

He winces when the setter stands up and heads to the cupboard to pull a mug, in which he then pours some coffee. Hajime stares at his back, swaddled in his t-shirt, and his mouth is suddenly very dry.

“Umm...” He isn't sure how to do this. Kenjirō turns around, hands him the drink and Hajime accepts without thinking twice, watching as he returns to his place. “How much did I miss from last night?”

Kenjirō looks at him for a moment, perhaps a little puzzled (Hajime can't figure it out). “Well, apparently _a lot_ of it.” His words certainly don't help Hajime's dizziness; he miserably keeps looking at him, the realization now sinking into him. “Did we... You know-”

“Yes.”

It cuts him off, simple and clear, and Hajime shuts his mouth. He immediately drinks down half of his coffee and regrets it soon after because it makes him feel so damn sick.

_Oh._

“Fuck.”

Kenjirō's chuckle is audible even though the boy clearly tries to hold it back. Hajime's hand flies to the back of his head, and embarrassment makes its way into him, nestling right above his stomach, to make worse his already pitiful conditions, but the setter seems to be having his fun, given by the amused look in his eyes, which are now glued to his face and never leaving.

“You are really pale. You should not worry too much about it, because both of us were willing. I can assure it for myself, of course. You were very out of it and... kind of eager.”

Hajime feels his blood freezing.

“Would you perhaps like to know some details?”

Hajime swears he can feels his own skin losing its color. He looks at the surface of his counter, his food still untouched. How could he forget? How could he possibly forget something of that matter? Kenjirō must be feeling sick with himself – or better, sick with him; he's always scolded Tooru when he forgot girls' names and brushed it off like nothing, but at least he's always known how to get out of these kinds of situations.

“It was nice, don't worry. I don't blame you for forgetting. As I have already said, you were out of it.”

Hajime looks at him and finds him smiling gently.

Memories hit him like a ton of bricks.

***

“ _Are you sure no one's home?”_

_Kenjirō's words are mere whispers, knocked out of his lungs when his back is slammed against the now closed door of the apartment. Hajime kisses him fervently, pulling away for a short moment to whisper a heated, “Yes.”_

_It doesn't take much longer than that for both of their jackets to be gracelessly dropped onto the floor and their hands to find their way to each other's bodier, touching and groping whatever they can reach._

“ _Bedroom,” Kenjirō orders and Hajime immediately complies, raising him up into his arms, making him wrap his legs around his own waist. He doesn't make his way to his room without grinding into him one last time, making him grunt against his lips._

_Kenjirō seems to regain his senses only when he finds himself being thrown onto the bed; the action makes him wince, curse quietly, because it only makes him grow more aroused than he already is when Hajime hovers over him and assaults his lips all over again._

_He is a messy kisser, Kenjirō thinks. But maybe it's because everything is happening in such a frenzy and drunken rhythm that it's hard to even stop and think._

_Greedy hands are sliding up his shirt, touching and feeling all over his pale skin and Kenjirō is glad he has chosen to approach him when he entered the bar._

_He moans in surprise when there are teeth grazing the side of his neck, leaving marks in their wake, which won't be seen until the morning after, so Kenjirō doesn't mind and lets the darkness of the room swallow all of them._

_Hajime doesn't waste any time in passionate foreplay or gentle touches._

_The setter's shirt is being unbuttoned rather quickly and Hajime's lips follow the open path on Kenjirō's chest as he gets lower. When the last button is no longer separating them, Hajime pulls away and licks his lips, motioning to Kenjirō to sit up. He obeys without complaining and slides off the cloth, throwing it away and not looking where it lands._

_The longing look Hajime gives him when his chest is exposed makes him shiver, but he throws himself back anyway, arching his back and offering himself to the wing spiker, who wastes no time to return to the sensitive skin of his chest and ribs, marking wherever he can reach, tasting the faint traces of sweat._

_The palm of his callused hand now travels lower, brushing over Kenjirō's clothed cock, already hard in his pants, but the moment the teasing begins, the setter's hands fly to Hajime's wrist, blocking his actions._

_Hajime pulls away from a flushed nipple with a raised eyebrow._

_Kenjirō only smirks and decides to gather some of his strength to roll them over so he is on top. Hajime gasps, but doesn't complain at all. Not when Kenjirō grinds his hips against his, making him groan. When he repeats it the second time, he understands there can't be any more waiting._

“ _Lube and condoms?”_

_Hajime blinks a few times. “Huh?”_

“ _Lube and condoms.”_

“ _First drawer.”_

_Kenjirō nods and moves away, standing up and bending to retrieve the desired items._

“ _Take off your clothes,” he orders him as he unbuckles his belt and lets his jeans slide down his slender legs. He observes Hajime's parted lips as he watches him for a moment before doing the same._

_Kenjirō feels his blood boiling when Hajime's muscles are exposed; he climbs back onto the bed, leaving the small bottle and package aside and focuses on him. Hajime smirks when Kenjirō places a soft kiss on his shoulder and then pushes him down to ravage every single part of him until it's bright red and matching his lips – from his neck to his chest, to his abs and hips._

_At last, when Hajime's impatience starts to come to surface, does the setter finally wrap an elegant hand around his cock. The wing spiker raises on his elbows, green eyes travel to meet hazel and the groan that escapes his throat is low and raspy._

_Kenjirō takes his time with careful, slow strokes, wanting to memorize every single part of him, every vein that will soon be inside of him and make him crazy. He hums when a rough hand moves to his cheek and then into his light hair, bringing him closer._

_He knows what Hajime wants and licks his lips before opening his mouth and finally taking the head of his cock between his lips. The groan he receives in return makes him shiver and he feels warmth spreading through his cheeks and neck._

_He takes him bit by bit, breathing through his nose while also focusing to perform at the best of his abilities. He takes as much as he can, makes his tongue swirl around his whole length. He pulls away to catch his breath, because the feeling is overwhelming and his nose isn't enough, and while he does it, he places a kiss on the tip._

_The noise coming from the man underneath him makes him shiver – want makes its way into the bit of his stomach and then spreads over his whole being – and he repeats the action. Hajime is getting even harder now and Kenjirō finds it almost amusing, the way he brings an arm to cover his eyes._

_He sucks on him, hollowing his cheeks. His eyes never leave Hajime's face._

“ _I... I won't last long if you keep doing this.”_

_And Kenjirō knows that more than well._

_It is almost a shame that he can't pay more attention to him. A few licks are not what he had in mind, but then again, alcohol does have its negative effect on people, putting annoying limits on them._

_He pulls away almost reluctantly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and freeing himself of his own saliva and a little bit of precum already dripping from Hajime's cock._

“ _Come here,” Hajime growls as he is about to sit up, but the setter immediately pushes him back down, with a simple and dry “no”. Then, his slender hands move to grab lube and condoms forgotten next to the wing spiker. He first opens the package and rolls it over his member, earning a grunt from Hajime._

_Then, he adjusts himself on top of him, his legs at each side of him. He first pours some lube over his hand and then uses the other one to balance himself, placing it on Hajime's chest._

_He brings his finger behind himself, dragging his index finger over his entrance a couple of times before finally pressing against it. It sinks in without too much trouble – he's done these things enough times to know the procedure._

_He lets out a shaky breath._

_He pushes until he feels his knuckle and then pulls back out. He smirks when Hajime's hands travel to his thighs, gently caressing the pale skin with open palms, enjoying every single part they can reach._

_The second finger joins the first very soon and it is easy to adjust to them now that his arousal is even greater. He moans when he curls them inside of himself and hits his sweet spot. He instinctively brings his hand to Hajime's mouth, sliding his middle finger inside, making the tip slide against his wet tongue._

_The third finger is a bit harder to take. He winces ever so slightly, but it is enough for Hajime to notice, despite his drunken state. The warmth on his thighs disappears and soon it is wrapped around Kenjirō's swollen cock, neglected up until now._

_Kenjirō's jaw drops open, his back arches and he feels himself growing hungrier for what's to come next._

_When he feels stretched enough, he pulls out his fingers and takes a hold of the small bottle again. He pours a generous amount on his hand and smears it all over Hajime's cock, before shifting slightly forward and finally,_ finally _lowering his hips, making him sink in down to the base in one go._

_The moan he lets out is loud – he doesn't remember ever being this loud._

_Hajime groans underneath him, his hands back onto him, holding onto his hips and wasting no time to thrust into that tight heat, making them both groan._

_Kenjirō can't deny the surprise when Hajime's hips start moving at a frantic pace, pushing up into him even though he could barely stand less than half an hour ago. And despite the fact that it feels so damn good, he pushes the two fingers he's still holding inside his mouth further, making Hajime cough, his movements stop._

_He receives a confused look and he only chuckles. He starts to move his hips on his own, incredibly slow, trying to tighten his inner muscles every now and then and enjoying when Hajime's eyes fall shut and his voice comes out in deep, husky, moans._

_He increases the pace gradually, lets Hajime hold his hips – even though he doesn't bother to try and take charge again._

_Kenjirō shifts ever so slightly, changing the angle a little until his prostate is being his with every single meeting of hips. “Oh, God...” he whispers, throwing his head back and increasing his pace even more._

“ _Ah! Mmh...” Hajime moans. “Oik-”_

 _Kenjirō's eyes fly open and before he is able to finish hearing that_ damn _name, his hand is pressed violently onto Hajime's mouth and his brown eyes burn with irritation as much as they burn with desire._

“ _No.”_

_Hajime shudders as Kenjirō grinds onto him, taking all of him once again._

“ _My name... Say it.”_

_Hajime's fingers dig into the hollow of the setter's hipbones. Kenjirō removes his hand._

“My _name.”_

_Hajime takes in a few deep breaths, trying to gather what's left of his shattered, drunken thoughts as Kenjirō gives a roll of his hips._

“ _Shirabu,” comes as a quiet whisper and it makes shivers run down his spine._

_The rhythm of their movements is once again frantic. But this is good, even though his legs are starting to ache slightly from the constant strain – he can take this. He has endured worse things. Kenjirō struggles to recognize his own voice – Hajime is starting to stutter, his fingers clawing into the other's buttocks, spreading them apart to give him an even better access._

_Kenjirō's head spins._

***

Hajime feels blood rush underneath the skin of his cheeks, making them burn stronger with each passing second. Kenjirō just stares at him, playing with the cup in his hands. Hajime licks his lips and finally takes a sip of his coffee.

He doesn't really know what to say.

Is there anything to say?

The setter's gaze sets on the light coming from the window of their living room and Hajime is the one staring now.

“You know,” Kenjirō begins, slowly. “I wish it lasted longer.”

***

_It doesn't take long before Hajime's breathing becomes even more erratic. The sweat on his forehead and the expression of pure ecstasy is showing just how close he is. He's pushing inside of Kenjirō with pure brute force now, and if it weren't for the insistent hand keeping him down, he would have already been on top, pushing him into the mattress until his senses were blank._

“ _I'm... I-”_

“ _I know,” Kenjirō cuts him off, moaning immediately after. His free hand moves to his cock and he strokes himself quickly, trying but failing at keeping Hajime's relentless pace. And then he feels himself being pulled in one last time and it is the strongest feeling he's felt in a long time – it makes him lose his balance, makes him fall forward on Hajime's chest as the latter groans and empties himself inside of him._

_It takes a couple more strokes for Kenjirō to come too; he spills on Hajime's stomach and chest, moaning the entire time as Hajime keeps grinding into him through his orgasm._

“ _Yes... Yes._ Yes. _”_

_Kenjirō places a wet kiss in the crook of Hajime's neck. Even though he should be satisfied, he kind of wants more. But when Hajime makes him raise his hips so he can pull out, the setter realizes just how tired the man underneath him is. He kisses him on the cheek, then on the corner of his mouth._

_Kenjirō can't deny that there is a slight bit of happiness in the pit of his stomach when Hajime pulls him closer and deepens his simple peck on the lips, sliding in his tongue and sighing into it._

_***_

“It'll be much better next time, I assure you. I'll make sure you remember it too.”

Hajime blinks, not sure if he's hearing things right or if it's still his headache that's messing with him. _Next time?_ He gulps down another sip of his coffee and frown when he realizes it is the last before his cup is empty. Before he is able to even focus on it, Kenjirō is on his feet and is pouring him another dose of it.

“I... What?” Hajime asks then.

The setter shrugs and forces a small smile. “Iwaizumi-san, do I look like a one-night-stand guy to you?”

Hajime blushes, immediately shakes his head at the implication. “No! Absolutely not... It's just...”

Kenjirō raises an eyebrow, looking at him somewhat interested. “Just what?”

“I mean... I didn't think you were looking for a relationship.”

“I am not looking for a relationship. But I like you.”

Hajime wonders just what shade of red has he turned into. He isn't sure of any of this – he doesn't even know the boy except from their previous matches, and even then his main concern was Wakatoshi.

He doesn't know what to answer to him.

“Shouldn't we at least get to know each other?”

“Of course we should, Iwaizumi-san.”

Hajime has the feeling he isn't done talking.

And he is right.

“I have nothing to do today. What about you?”

Green eyes widen for a split second, before realization dawns on him. “Are you really sure about... this?”

“I have nothing to lose.”

Hajime doesn't expect a kiss on his lips when he closes his eyes, but he receives it, gentle and slow. There is a part of him that's still confused, but the larger part of him is in control and is making him kiss back, moving his hands to grab the setter's arms and shifting their position so he is making him standing between his legs.

Despite him being pretty much unknown, Hajime still feels a certain familiarity on his lips, on his tongue, unspoken words and suppressed feelings he knows he has too. But maybe they can make them go away and forget hem even for brief moments, burying them under gasps and moans similar to those of the previous evening.

Hajime decides to dare a little more, decides to pull him a little closer.

It is strange to notice that he somehow fits between his arms just fine.

No.

Maybe more than fine.

Definitely more than fine.

***

_When all of it is over, Kenjirō watches Hajime sleep underneath him and moves to the side, sighing when his side comes in contact with the comfortable mattress of Hajime's bed._

_From his past experiences, Kenjirō knows that he'd better not be found here in the morning; one night stands usually have something underneath and he must admit he is kind of sick of awkward meetings and hopeless attempts at conversation._

_That's why, after he has regained his breath, he cleans himself up with the tissues he finds on the nightstand. After considering it for a minute, he decides to clean up Hajime as well, wiping away the cum on his abdomen and chest. In response, he receives a quiet mumble._

_His hand can't resist and goes to his cheek, brushing the tanned skin gently._

_Kenjirō's always remembered him._

_An ace anyone can rely on – memories of him comforting Oikawa Tooru after every single loss hits him; the way he used to hold him, make him cry out every frustration his team brought upon him and giving his best to be strong enough not to crumble in front of him. He's never meant to witness any of them, but strange coincidences always made him be in the perfect time and place._

_Hajime's strong arms wrapped around his former Captain is something Kenjirō has always wanted for himself as well, but has never had the chance to obtain, despite how hard he tried._

_His hand is replaced by his lips, a quiet “Goodnight,” mumbled into the darkness._

_He is about to roll over to get out of bed, but all of a sudden, Hajime's heavy body is doing the same, a heavy arm wraps around his upper body, trapping his arms and holding him in place. He winces, tries to shove it off, but ends up being pulled away into that unknown warmth not even a second later._

_It makes him stop breathing, his blood rushing and he doesn't know what to do._

_The spiker's warm, breath sticks to his sweaty nape and Kenjirō can't help but feel the slight dizziness overcoming him, and it is not the alcohol's fault._

“ _Stay.”_

_It is almost inaudible, and he believes to be hallucinating for a moment. But the way he is brought even closer, makes him certain. With difficulty, he manages to turn around, bury his face into his partner's neck and exhale._

“ _Stay...”_

_He nods into the heated skin._

“ _Okay.”_

_He doesn't hold back a smile, but he can't help but wonder if he's the same man even without Oikawa Tooru around._

 

* * *

 

Their getting to know each other lasts barely three months.

Hajime doesn't know how or why, or what could have possibly turned a drunk fuck into a relationship. It is not like him, not when he's spent the better part of his childhood, no, _all_ of his childhood looking after Tooru, taking care of Tooru, kissing and making love to Tooru, because he's always been everything he's ever wanted.

And yet, now he finds himself lying on his bed, a different setter than Tooru underneath him placing gentle kisses on his lips; humble kisses that Hajime strangely loves enough to want more.

Kenjirō is no idiot.

Hajime is no idiot either. Okay, maybe he is.

But he knows he isn't the only one with conflicted feelings about this. Kenjirō told him about his feelings for Wakatoshi and he himself refused to hold back details from what kept bothering him for a couple years now. It is definitely not a topic people talk about while starting a new relationship, but they are both aware of one thing.

It things aren't clear since the beginning, then it will all turn to nothing sooner or later.

Strangely, finding out about Kenjirō's unrequited love for Ushijima Wakatoshi made him feel at peace. Because he won't be the only one with a heavy burden on his back in this.

He wraps his arms around the smaller boy's frame tighter, pulls his body into his own until they can barely move on their own, and he hears a content hum that makes an entire load of trouble disappear from his spine.

***

“You look better lately,” Daichi tells him during lunch after their morning lessons.

“Oh, really?” Hajime asks with a small smile on his face, almost shy, even though they both know he knows what the other is talking about.

***

“I saw Ushijima-san and Oikawa-san,” Kenjirō says all of a sudden, when there is only the two of them eating the food Hajime prepared after following the setter to his apartment.

The wing spiker's eyes widen. “What? Aren't they in Tokyo? The championship-”

“I'm not talking about today.”

Hajime shuts his mouth, staring at him with a mixture of curiosity and confusion plastered on his face. “I don't understand, Kenjirō.” The setter smiles slightly at his first name spoken by Hajime and shrugs gently, takes another mushroom in his mouth.

He chews slowly, thinking carefully about everything he wants to say. When he swallows, he lets it out. “On the day we met again at the bar. When we first slept together. I ran into Ushijima-san and Oikawa-san on my way home from the library.”

“You spoke to them?”

“Yes, but only briefly. They were in a hurry because they needed to reach their friends. Oikawa-san was very nice though.”

Hajime smiles lightly. “Oh yeah? How rare...”

“I still kind of wanted to punch him in the face.”

Hajime's smile turns into a laugh. Oh, how he knows that feeling. Kenjirō laughs as well and it echoes in the spacious room around them, making all the previous attempts of tension disappear into nothingness.

Then, Hajime confesses too.

He tells Kenjirō about his dialogue with Wakatoshi, about the way he forbid him to see his best friend and about the way he told him pretty much how good their life together is.

None of them comments it. They know.

And their hidden and undying love for those two makes them glad – happy for those two yes, but also glad because those two meetings pushed them into that bar to drink and forget their problems.

When the plates are empty and they clean up the table, putting the dirty dishes in the sink, they find themselves standing next to each other. Hajime washes the plates, Kenjirō dries them. It all happens in a comfortable silence.

They both wouldn't have it any other way.

***

“Oikawa is in a splendid shape today! This is the fifth consecutive service ace. He is incredible!”

The game commentator praises him. Kenjirō praises him in awe and Hajime can't pull off the smug and proud look off his face. Even if they aren't seeing him in person, Hajime can clearly see the incredible concentration on the setter's face, who's getting ready for the umpteenth serve; he can almost feel his overwhelming presence and he can't help but remember when once this felt like the strongest of encouragements when they played together, on the same court.

A wave of nostalgia hits him, but it's nothing he can't bear.

“Make another one. Come on.”

Hajime blinks in surprise, then glances at Kenjirō, who's sitting next to him, hands clenched into fists ad chocolate eyes keep staring at the screen.

“Are you actually cheering for him?”

The boy turns to look at him and smiles slightly. “Back in high school, I would have given everything to be like him,” _to be him._ Because Wakatoshi has always wanted and admired _him._

Hajime hums, recognizes the strained relaxed tone in his voice and shifts closer, wrapping a strong arm around his shoulders. “It's not impossible. He got there with a lot of practice.”

Kenjirō nods in understanding. “It seems like a lot of endless practice.”

“But he's there, in the end.”

“I guess you are right.”

Hajime pulls him closer, until Kenjirō's head is leaned against his shoulder and he leans his own head on top of it, letting the light brown locks tickle his cheek. This time Osaka's libero receives Tooru's serve, but it bounces off his arms and back towards the other side of the court.

A perfect chance ball.

Yū receives it and passes it to Tooru, who gets into position between two of the strongest wing spikers in the country, who are jumping in the air as if they weighted nothing, a right and a left hand going back, ready to spike the strongest way they can manage.

Hajime notices the hesitant movements of the blockers from Osaka.

And he understands that very well. Because whoever Tooru choses will score for sure. Hajime has never managed to reach the national tournament with his team – the amount of assignments and chapters to study doesn't exactly help him to attend practice every single day; he has to skip a day or two every week at least.

He can't help but wish to be on the other side of that net.

They did promise to each other they would meet again.

Hajime wonders why he isn't chasing that promise.

Tooru has already kept it. He is _there._

“Ne, Kenjirō,” he begins. “Why did you stop playing?”

There is a long moment of silence following his question and Hajime's green eyes only keep watching at Wakatoshi lands from his jump, the ball already out of bonds after slamming on the court and scoring Tooru's team another point.

Kenjirō sighs. “I don't really see the point.”

Hajime hums. “Why?”

“I guess I got tired of it.”

Hajime knows it isn't true. He knows it's all because of Wakatoshi and Tooru, because if the two of them hadn't gotten together the way they were, then this setter would have probably followed the wing spiker to Tokyo, even if it meant drowning himself in studies to get into Tokai.

Tooru is walking back behind the white line.

Hajime's fingers hold Kenjirō's shoulder tighter.

Tooru's sixth service ace brings his team victory.

Kenjirō reaches out, takes a hold of the remote control and changes channel. “Can we lie down? I am quite tired.”

Hajime kisses the crown of his head, nuzzles it gently. “Do you want to go to bed?”

“No, here is fine.”

Hajime moves so Kenjirō is able to lie down on top of him.

They spend lots of evenings this way, Hajime thinks, just holding each other and sleeping together. They started out by having sex almost every night, but as time has gone on, they have done less of that and more... of this.

They have sex, but it's nothing frenzy as it's been the first nights, but is instead gentle and warm and slow. It makes them sigh in pleasure as they kiss and as their hands run all over each other's bodies. They have started to take their time to get to know each other – what they like, what they don't like, what they want and what they don't want.

But it's not only about the bed matters.

Hajime feels like he's starting to know the usually quiet setter overall: the way he behaves in almost every situation, his favorite food, movie and TV show. He was also amused when he found out they have pretty much the same wish, to be taller.

Hajime can't help but remember their first date as a couple.

“Genetics is a bitch,” they both spoke at the same time. Their eyes went wide and they immediately started to laugh loud enough for half of the people in the restaurant to look at them in disapproval.

It didn't matter.

Hajime's hand moves from Kenjirō's shoulder to his soft hair, running through it.

“I want to try and play with you,” Hajime tells him at a certain point.

“You wouldn't have that much fun.”

Hajime raises an eyebrow, though he knows Kenjirō can't possibly see him in the position they're in. “Shouldn't I be the one to decide about that?”

The setter says nothing.

“Come to the gym once. You don't have to join if you don't want to, but you should at least see the team.”

Kenjirō nods against a clothed collarbone.

“Okay.”

***

“I love you.”

The phrase is quiet and muffled, whispered into Kenjirō's neck as their hips meet, almost buried by the sound of flowing water and gasps and moans. Hajime is thrusting slowly inside of the setter, careful not to slip or lose his balance. The shower is incredibly small for the two of them, but they managed to fit in enough to be comfortable.

Kenjirō's back is pressed against the cold tiled wall, trapped between it and Hajime's chest, his long legs wrapped around his hips as the hot water hits them both, getting them rid of the sweat forming on their skin with every movement.

“I love you,” Hajime repeats, his grip on the setter's buttocks now even harder, blunt nails making red bloom on white skin.

Hajime's breath hitches in his throat when Kenjirō's hands wrap around his neck even tighter, pulling him for a heated kiss. The setter wastes no time to bite and nibble on Hajime's bottom lip, let out quiet moans inside of his mouth, making him swallow them all.

It's been four months since they started dating; seven since they met in that bar.

Kenjirō smiles against his mouth and then loses himself in the now erratic thrusts Hajime gives to him, brushing his prostate every time he sinks in him, as deep as their bodies allow them.

“I love you too. I love you too...” Kenjirō whispers and it doesn't take a long time from there for Hajime to lose his mind, his sight blurry with the growing pressure in his abdomen.

He roars, finally reaching his orgasm and filling Kenjirō with his cum. It is enough for the boy to reach his peak as well, untouched, spilling white all over Hajime's abdomen and not having the time to see it because the water washes it away almost immediately.

They get down from their high there, Hajime's legs barely supporting them both. But they manage.

Slowly, Kenjirō uses his arms as leverage on the wing spiker's broad shoulders and lowers his legs one by one until he is standing.

They don't pull away.

Instead, Hajime keeps his face hidden in the lower boy's neck, breathing deeply and slowly to regain his senses. And Kenjirō holds him tightly throughout all of it, the warmth surrounding them making him a little dizzy, tired. But he doesn't want to get out of here – this is everything he's ever wanted. Everything.

He licks his wet lips, closes his eyes and waits until Hajime pulls away, five minutes later.

The wing spiker only then seems to realize it, what he said and what was said to him. Kenjirō sees green eyes widen and he is almost afraid that it might have been talk reserved only to the heat of the moment.

But he finds out he is wrong immediately after.

His lips are claimed in a deep kiss, gentle and more passionate than the ones before.

He lets himself go.

***

“Nice toss, Suga!” Daichi calls as he jumps high in the air, ready to slam the ball on the other side of the net. “Do you think I'll let you?!” Hajime replies, jumps and blocks the strong attack threatening his team. The ball is still strong enough to fly back, but then Shinji is diving in, receiving it.

“Shirabu-san!”

Hajime, who has already landed, looks to his side, sees the first-year spinning, jumping and raising his hands in the air. His instincts tell him to jump once more, and he does, higher then before with his hand thrown back.

The ball bounces off skilled fingers and flies to him, to the almost perfect spot for him to slam it down with his full strength, but not quite there yer. He scores anyway and his teammates run to him, patting his back.

It is nothing like Tooru's tosses used to be. But all the material to get there is available.

He meets his new setter's gaze, grins and moves to hug him.

This was the first practice match among teammates ever since Kenjirō gave in and joined the team – the coaches have been delighted, having finally gotten an ex-player of Shiratorizawa Academy, a brilliant setter to send on the court with their other players.

And yes, it was only a small match among teammates, but to Hajime, this small and insignificant victory meant more than he could ever imagine.

***

Tokai wins the Spring tournament for the third year in a row. Tooru wins his fourth 'Best Setter' Award on the National level.

Hajime and Kenjirō watch him accept the small frame with a sincere smile, bow deeply to show his gratitude. He then spins on his heel, and heads to his ace, stands next to him and waits until he receives his frame too.

Even on television, Hajime knows the setter is trembling, joy and happiness filling every piece of him down to the core.

Wakatoshi's hand is on his shoulder, squeezing gently when the picture is taken with the others and immediately after the flash of the camera dies out, the program ends and commercials begin.

It doesn't affect any of them.

“The movie's on channel 4.”

“Okay,” Hajime says.

“Should I make some popcorn?”

Hajime smiles. “If you want to. I'll be waiting for you.”

Kenjirō heads there, and Hajime's eyes never leave him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello there.
> 
> I know, I'm late again.
> 
> I promised myself I wouldn't take a whole month to write a chapter, but school is killing me slowly. And work doesn't help.
> 
> |And also Shirabu and Iwaizumi... Well, they were the hardest damn thing to write in 22 chapters this series contains for now. They were pretty much the source of all my nightmares.
> 
> But I'm glad I put this down, because I'm very satisfied of how it came out. At least Hajime has found a shorter boyfriend than him, haha. It's a relief - I've finally managed to make him happy. 
> 
> I hope you like it as well.
> 
> ***
> 
> Thank you in advance for all the Comments, Kudos and Bookmarks. I really appreciate all the support. Thank you for sticking with me so far.


	9. Allow Me to Send Away the Fears of Your Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He started to stay late at the gym once again.
> 
> Wakatoshi doesn't understand.
> 
> He just can't focus on Tobio's tosses, because his eyes keep traveling to Tooru, who is mostly working on jump tosses. Tobio and him are tossing to each other, taking a small break from the practice. They end up farther away from where the setter is and Tobio seems to be observing him as well, Wakatoshi notices.
> 
> He doesn't ask.
> 
> It is not needed, because Tobio speaks first.
> 
> “Ushijima-san, I think there is something wrong with Oikawa-san.”

It happens _again_ on the first day of practice in his third year.

Tooru is walking by Wakatoshi's side when they finally arrive to the gym. The locker room was empty, but it is a normal thing for that hour in the morning. There was only a bag in the most distant bench of the room, right in the corner and Wakatoshi had asked him if he knew anything about it and Tooru said he didn't.

But of course he knows.

The moment his eyes manage to focus on the middle of the gym, he sees Kageyama Tobio standing under the net, a volleyball in his hands.

This gym is reserved to the National team only, so there is no way Tooru is going to be able to avoid him. Not when the World Cup is a few months away from here. The coaches called out to all the members of the team, asking for them to stop by to get used to each other – the newbies aren't many,but they must be integrated properly.

Tooru can't help but swallow hard when he sees bright blue eyes looking at him. His body starts to feel incredibly heavy and when that gaze doesn't cease, he can't help but look away, to his side, to Wakatoshi.

The wing spiker is looking forward, fixating on his former opponent.

Tooru sees a light frown, furrowed brows, but it is not menacing – a challenge, yes, but nothing more than that, nothing hostile.

“Oikawa-san,” Tobio calls and Tooru blinks, gasps, swallows once more.

This isn't the way he expected it to be, but then it is, because the genius is back out for him, to hunt him down and take his place.

“Ushijima-san,” the younger setter calls, acknowledges both of their presences.

“Hello, Kageyama,” Wakatoshi greets, his deep voice echoing in the large room, so loud it makes Tooru's ears ring. Dizziness overcomes him and makes his muscles feel weak, limp, as if they could give up any moment now.

But he can't let that happen.

It would mean surrendering.

So he pulls off a smile, his brown eyes narrow ever so slightly.

“It's nice to see you here, Tobio-chan.”

***

A dinner with the team is tradition. Every training session begins with it, and so far, Tooru hasn't missed any. Wakatoshi always accompanies him, though the setter knows more than well that he has no interest whatsoever in social events. He did ask him the reason quite a few times already, but the answer's always been the same: “It is useless. We see each other everyday at practice.”

And while Tooru agrees with him to a certain degree, practice is practice. This is fun.

Even though he is of a legal drinking age now, and has been for more than half a year, he isn't touching alcohol. He can't exactly say he is a person who learns from his mistakes, but the one with the alcohol two years ago is an experience he never wants to repeat again.

He was forced to skip practice that day, and he is never going to skip another because of that. Wakatoshi agrees with him. Yes, they all took the one shot the older guys offer to the team, but nothing more. Tooru ordered juice, while Wakatoshi keeps sticking to the mineral water.

Tooru plays with the straw, barely listening to the confusing number of conversations around him. It is not even too long into the night, barely the end of dinner, and more than half of the people are already wasted, pulling off stupid jokes and talking about stuff that happened or didn't happen to them.

Tooru, despite his party nature, doesn't speak and is slowly started to get annoyed by all this. It is hot in here and he doesn't like it. Wakatoshi is sitting next to him, silent as well and the setter figured he might have taken some bad habits from him.

Or _are_ they that bad?

All of a sudden he stands up, and everyone's eyes are on him. His own, though, are only on Wakatoshi. “I'll just go out to get some fresh air,” he tells him, and instinctively his lips curve up.

The wing spiker blinks. “I'll come with you,” he tells him and is about to stand up, but Tooru's hand lowers on his shoulder, staying there for a while. “No, stay with them,” he says pointing at an already wasted Tetsurō and an even more wasted Kōtarō. “I'll be back soon, and I think we already lost _them_ , so don't let them cause any trouble.”

Wakatoshi frowns, but doesn't get up. “Alright.”

Tooru nods and heads out; Wakatoshi's gaze is on his back until he is out of the door of their room. He walks a little hurriedly, greeting the waitresses who all line up and look at him with shy gazes and red cheeks. When he steps out of the restaurant, the fresh air hits his face and he inhales until his lungs are not able to take any more air in. Then, he exhales and his head stops spinning.

He can hear more noise coming from the inside and sighs, heading towards the benches next to the sidewalk. He sits down on the closest one, facing the street, where the cars are running one after another.

Since when does he like peace and quiet this much?

Tokyo is all but that, and yet, he has started to see it in a different way. He avoids the crowded places, takes more routes through the various parks, doesn't waste his time in bars at night – he goes out on weekends with his friends, but he is focusing too much on his studies and his volleyball career to turn every single evening into a party, like most of his friends do.

Wakatoshi has sure _spoiled_ him.

He shuts off his thoughts, letting his mind relax, and closes his eyes to concentrate on every single sound around him, on the wind, on the air he's breathing. He doesn't really know how much time goes by before the door of the restaurant opens and footsteps ruin the monotone background noise.

Tooru sighs and opens his eyes, doesn't turn around.

“Ushiwaka-chan, I was about to come in just now. You didn't have to-”

“Ushijima-san is still inside.”

Tooru's eyes widen and he turns around when that voice reaches his ears. Tobio stands behind him, his hands hidden in the pockets of his jacket, shoulders a little tense.

“Oh, it's you, Tobio.”

He drops the _-chan_ , because it is not needed. Not when they are alone.

Tooru takes in the sight of him from tip to toe, tries to impress it in his mind – he tells himself it could help him to get used to it. A part of him is doubting it.

After a few more seconds, he turns to look back at the street, not moving from his spot. He tries to still his slowly shaking body when he feels warmth next to him as Tobio sits down, facing the opposite direction.

They don't speak – Tooru has no intention to start a conversation, with Tobio of all people. He is fine the way they are – even though their arms are brushing and instead of the warmth two bodies close together can provide, there are chills overcoming every part of him.

Tobio doesn't notice.

He is too dense to notice, Tooru figures.

He just hopes it will stop soon.

“Will it be like last time, Oikawa-san?”

Tooru's body stiffens. He can't hold back from turning his head to the side only to find distant blue eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

Tobio turns to look at him, his usual frown always plastered all over his face. “I'm talking about practice. Will it be like in middle school? Me asking you for help and you denying it? You hating me for God knows what reason and everything else?”

Tooru is taken aback by this. He really wants to get away, but if he does, he'll lose. Still – there is no denying that now his heart is beating too fast and his gut is clenching almost painfully, worked up by all this nervousness.

“So what if it is?”

Tobio snorts and looks away once again, focuses onto an indefinite point on the ground. “As long as your hands aren't _on_ me, I guess I could live with it.”

A gasp rips out of Tooru's throat as a particular memory flies to the back of his mind, when there used to be the two of them, their rivalry and Hajime – Tooru still can't thank enough every single entity that rules the world for his presence back then.

Tobio hasn't forgotten apparently.

But then, how could he, possibly?

Tooru raises the palm of his hand and stares at it. Does Tobio really think that he could once again attempt to hit him? After all this time?

“I'm a grown-up, Tobio. You are, too, apparently. Don't you think it would be childish of me not to remember and repeat the _mistakes_ I made when I was fifteen?

With this, he finally admits to him a part of his feelings. He was wrong back then. Childish indeed.

He doesn't know why he's doing it – he shouldn't owe any explanation to Tobio; especially not to Tobio. And yet, here he is, confessing one of the most hidden parts of himself. He was vague indeed, buthe can feel every dark secret spilling into the quietness of the night air, without any other word being needed.

When he glances to the side, he finds Tobio staring at him with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

He clicks with his tongue.

_That brat._

“Are you serious right now? You... You are not making fun of me, are you?”

The distrust brought out by his voice is unmistakable. Tooru stares back at him, offended (but he can't really blame him, can he?). His hands clench into fists.

(Of course he can.)

“I am serious, Tobio _-chan_. I don't really want to waste my time bickering with you. I have other stuff on my mind.”

(But he won't.”

“You mean Ushijima-san?”

“Shut up.”

“Oikawa-san-”

“I'll hit you if you don't shut up.”

Tobio presses his lips into a pout, clearly irritated by the wall suddenly placed between them. Tooru decides he won't let him know anything about him and Wakatoshi. He won't be allowed to take a look at that as well.

The heat he was feeling when he exited the restaurant is completely gone.

He kind of wants to go back inside, retrieve Wakatoshi's... reassuring warmth.

But it's not like he needs it.

He must be wondering where he is though.

Tooru swears he's never wanted an interruption this badly in his whole life.

“So...” Tobio begins and Tooru focuses once again. “Are we going to play volleyball like two normal people?”

“The two of us are not even close to the definition of normal. But I understand your point, and yes. We will play together like normal people. Probably.”

The way Tobio jolts on his feet almost makes Tooru fall back with him, dragged by the sudden bust of energy released from him. Tooru turns around on the bench and his eyes meet a Tobio with one of the largest (and kind of creepiest) grins he's ever seen on his face.

Definitely creepy.

But sincere.

“This will be great! I'll finally be able to practice with you, to learn from you like an equal! It's... It's _everything_ I've ever wanted!”

Tooru stands up abruptly, faking displeasure and annoyance, but his lips are gently curved up and he just can't make it stop. “Hey, hey! Don't exaggerate now!”

Tobio freezes. “Huh? What is it?” There is a small pause, and then a blink on Tobio's part. “You _will_ teach me, right?”

It takes everything Tooru has not to grin smugly.

“Absolutely not.”

It doesn't come out half as venomous and sharp as he wanted it to be, but it triggers Tobio's chuckle and the burning desire to compete. It makes Tooru cringe. The aura surrounding him is strong, almost making him want to kneel in front of the king.

But when he thinks about the current team, Satori, Tetsurō, Kōtarō, Wakatoshi, his courage hits him like the strongest of waves.

He is a king too.

Different.

But still a king.

And the game is on all over again.

Tobio is grinning almost madly. “I can't wait to practice with you again.”

Tooru only smirks, crosses his arms until Tobio looks away.

“We should go back inside. The others must be wondering where we are. Unlike you, I have an image to maintain.”

Tobio shrugs. “They are completely wasted in there. Ushijima-san is the only one who could have noticed that we were gone for long.” The moment he says it, he remembers the night of a few months ago. He stiffens.

“Umm... We should hurry up.”

Tooru laughs.

It doesn't change the fact that he's feeling a little heavy.

As if he had just started to carry a burden on his shoulders – a very familiar one.

His mouth is suddenly very dry.

It's a little easier to bear when his ace is next to him.

But it's just the beginning.

***

Tooru finds himself regretting his promise not even a month later.

He watches as Tobio makes progress day after day – Tooru knows he's missed a lot of his improvement, since after he got out of high school he had other stuff in his head; Tobio certainly wasn't his main concern – and he can't help but feel that anxiety building in the pit of his stomach.

The coach is making him practice with every single player, to make him used to them. In the back of his mind, Tooru knows this is no threat to him, but he just can't help himself.

Surprisingly, despite his dense and not so bright personality, Tobio is actually managing to get along with everyone and he makes sure to take mental notes whenever any teammate points out a mistake or a way to make a toss better. Tooru hates that he can remember all of it so easily.

The small, black notebook he always keeps in the pocket of his bag suddenly feels like some kind of failure, even though there is absolutely nothing missing in it. Every player has his page – Wakatoshi and Kōtarō have three each, and Tetsurō and Satori have two – every strategy is clearly studied and examined, with side notes all over the place.

And Tooru reads all of it every single evening before dinner, mostly when he's in the bathtub.

And Tobio just memorizes it with no effort whatsoever.

Sure, when tossing, he still isn't on Tooru's level, but the difference is by now only in styles, not in skills.

Even now, he's using Kōtarō's abilities in an insane way when it comes to quicks.

Tooru sits on the floor, back against the wall and Wakatoshi next to him.

They've been working on this new move for a while now. Ever since Tooru found out about Wakatoshi's capability of using his right hand to spike, he's been trying to figure out a few moves that could surprise their opponents in times of need.

They are making progress, but they still need to get used it. It is not a regular toss, but much higher, adapted to him only. They still need to learn to use it during the match.

“What are you two conspiring about?” Tetsurō's voice suddenly reaches them. They both look up to find him standing next to them. Tooru rolls his eyes – even on his day off, he still finds the time and the will to come and bug him. Not that he minds. They both get up on their feet to be on the same level – the break is going to be over soon anyway.

“It's a secret between setter and ace,” Tooru mocks and Wakatoshi opens his mouth to explain it himself, but then Tobio calls over to them, distracting them.

“Ushijima-san!”

Their attention is now on the new setter, who is approaching them. Tooru watches as Wakatoshi blinks at him and listens. When Tobio is close to them, he bows to Tetsurō and greets him politely and then returns his attention to the ace. “Ushijima-san, can I try to toss to you? We've been on the same team for a while, but we still haven't practiced together yet.”

It is stronger than Tooru – he inevitably snaps. “What the-”

He is interrupted by the middle blocker's hand on his shoulder. He meets those cat-like eyes and is met with a shake of head and a mouthed 'no'. “Let them try together. They have to, sooner or later,” he whispers then and then lets Tobio resume his speaking.

“I would like to try a few quicks. Since you are left-handed, I want to get used to you as soon as I can.”

Wakatoshi considers his words, but the motivation is more than valid, so he nods. “Alright.”

Tobio's lips curve up slightly, and Tooru must admit that this smile looks so much better than the last time he saw him.

“Can we try immediately?”

Wakatoshi nods and heads to the court without looking back, Tobio immediately behind him.

Tooru watches the scene with his jaw dropped – he can't believe he almost expected Wakatoshi to say no to him. Tetsurō seems to notice it and snickers. “Close that mouth or a fly's going to get in there by mistake.”

Tooru would usually reply to that with another mockery, but this time he just obeys, without moving at all. The middle blocker pats him on the shoulder gently. “Come on, princess. Let's just watch them. You can point out all of Kageyama's

mistakes later.”

Tooru kind of likes the idea. If only the context was different, he would even enjoy it more.

Wakatoshi and Tobio are ready to begin – Wakatoshi throws the ball to the setter, who immediately tosses it high, just like he has seen Tooru do countless times. Wakatoshi jumps and hits it, but it is clearly off – the other two can see it even from the distance.

It still comes out strong.

But not perfect.

Tooru grins smugly, because no matter how much of a genius Tobio might be, tossing to a lefty for the first time is just not meant to be correct. He knows that quite well. Still, it makes his body tingle as satisfaction blossoms in his chest.

“Don't act so pleased,” Tetsurō chuckles.

Wakatoshi is close to Tobio now, probably explaining his mistake and telling him what the correct way to toss to him is. Then, he returns to his position, tosses the ball to Tobio, who tosses it back and he jumps.

The ball reaches his palm perfectly and it is soon slammed on the other side of the court with a monstrous strength only Wakatoshi is capable off. It bounces off the floor and high in the air, and lands a few meters from where Tooru is standing, lips parted.

“This one was good. One more.”

Tobio's eyes widen. “Yes!”

The third attempt is perfect.

“This one was really beautiful to watch,” Tetsurō whistles, forgetting for a moment who he's standing next to. He realizes his mistake and looks at his side. Tooru's fists are clenched on his side, brown eyes fixed on the court and it is a kind of gaze the middle blocker has never seen before.

“Oi, oi... It might have been just luck.”

It's never this easy during an actual game.

“I'm leaving,” Tooru mutters before Wakatoshi is in position again and turns on his heel, storming out of the gym and to the locker rooms before Tetsurō even has the time to say something.

He hears his name being called but doesn't stop.

***

Tooru knows he should stop behaving like this. He knew since the beginning, when he was invited into the National team, that he would have to face Tobio again, this time for good.

And yet, he can't stop this. He can't control himself.

He can't even believe he thought that being distant from him for two years would change something. It didn't happen in high school, so why did he think it would be possible now?

Maybe it's because of Wakatoshi, and the way he makes him feel strong, invincible, safe from any kind of loss. The amount of victories they brought to their team made him almost believe that there is nothing higher than them.

And yet...

This isn't about six people on the court. Not when his problem is on his own team.

This is all about skills, and Tooru's lack of natural talent necessary to compete.

As he brings the blanket over his head and buries his face in the cushion on the couch, he curses himself. There is no escape and he has to deal with it. He also promised.

“I'm an idiot.”

The front door opens and he hears Wakatoshi stepping in, closing it again and locking it. They don't have to go out anymore, given the hour.

After taking a deep breath, Tooru rolls on his side and uncovers his head, keeping the blanket up to his neck even if the night is warm.

“Oikawa,” Wakatoshi calls, but the setter doesn't bother to look up just yet. He does that only when Wakatoshi is close to the couch. Their eyes meet.

“What?”

“Why did you leave so early? I thought you wanted to try tossing to me the way we discussed.”

Tooru clicks with his tongue. “You were quite busy. Besides, I wasn't feeling well.”

The frown on the wing spiker's face makes Tooru's stomach twist and turn, so he closes his eyes. Wakatoshi carefully lowers both of their bags on the floor and takes a step forward. Tooru watches as he lowers down and suddenly a large hand is placed on his forehead, pressing against the skin gently.

“You are not warm. What was wrong?”

Tooru rolls his eyes when he pulls away and lays his head back down.

“I felt like throwing up.”

***

Whenever Tooru doesn't want to talk, he makes sure they end up having sex as soon as possible.

He always succeeds, but it is never really an escape; it is more of a postponement, because Wakatoshi usually lets him regain his breath and then begins to ask for explanation.

Just like Hajime used to – though he usually used to give him more time.

They are in his room now, Tooru with his head on the pillow, eyes lost in the starry ceiling and Wakatoshi's head between his legs. Breathy moans are escaping his mouth as Wakatoshi sucks on his cock while holding his hips in place in a vice grip.

He turns his head on the side and reaches out with his hand to his nightstand, pulling the first drawer open with a finger and then digging in to look for a condom.

Wakatoshi looks up and Tooru wouldn't mind finishing this way, but he needs more distraction. His thoughts are eating him up and he is just not able to concentrate exclusively on the pleasure.

“I don't feel like showering later, so use this,” he says as he tosses the small packet to the ace. Wakatoshi pulls away from him, takes it and watches Tooru roll over and then adjust until he is on all fours, ass up in the air and ready for the other.

Wakatoshi hovers over him, fishes the bottle of lube from the same drawer and Tooru pouts.

“You don't have to prepare me.”

He is glad he doesn't see Wakatoshi's face in that moment, because there must be one ugly frown on it.

“Don't be ridiculous, Oikawa.”

He knows he needs an excuse. “But I'm impatient. Get on with it!”

The cap opens and soon there is a couple of fingers at his entrance, gently smearing the cold liquid around the puckered skin before pushing in. There isn't much resistance, but since it's been a while since the last time they did it, it is a tight fit. The stress Tooru accumulated in the last weeks isn't helping either.

The slight pain is making him feel better though, so despite the uncomfortableness, Tooru pushes his hips back and lets out a long moan, shivering when Wakatoshi starts to scissor him open, occasionally brushing against his prostate and making his head spin.

When the third digit starts to press against the entrance, Tooru growls.

“It's enough.”

“Oikawa-”

Tooru turns to look at him over his shoulder, eyes half-lidded and wanting and imposing- Wakatoshi shuts his mouth. Tooru knows he's won, and he spreads his legs further, hugging the pillow underneath himself to prepare himself better for what's to come next.

He hears the plastic tear and the cap open again. He licks his lips when the head of Wakatoshi's cock is being pressed against his entrance and when he feels Wakatoshi sinking in, a burning feeling spreads in his lower back and it makes him suck in a breath, his face immediately pressed against the pillows.

It _hurts_.

The wing spiker groans behind him, his tightness almost unbearable.

Tooru bites his lip and immediately tastes blood on his tongue; his hands clutch tightly at the sheets and he can almost distinguish every single drop of blood coming to a stop in his knuckles.

Wakatoshi stays still inside of him, those large hands slowly sliding over Tooru's ribs, then over his trembling shoulders.

Tooru takes in deep breaths, but every second one is interrupted by a choked sob.

“Move,” he mumbles.

“Oikawa, no.”

“Move.”

This time his voice comes out stronger but Wakatoshi still doesn't comply, so Tooru attempts to turn around, but when his hips shift ever so slightly, the burning pain makes him freeze in place. There are tears in the corners of his eyes and he curses himself for not being able to endure this.

Before he knows it, Wakatoshi is pulling out.

“What are you-”

He feels his body being turned around and soon he is back in the same position of before, back against the mattress. The difference, though, is the closeness of Wakatoshi's face to his own.

Hazel eyes widen and he is about to turn his head to look away, but Wakatoshi cups his chin in time, preventing him to do so.

“Oikawa.”

The setter's breath hitches in his throat.

“What was that?”

“N-nothing... Just do something,” _anything._

The kiss he receives makes him sink into the softness underneath him, makes him surrender underneath the spiker's body, and the look of sorrow and frustration he receives after that makes guilt sink into the pit of his stomach. He brings his hands up to cup Wakatoshi's face, to bring him down for another kiss.

Wakatoshi's hands roam over his naked body and Tooru's find support and comfort on the wing spiker's back. They make out for a long time, before Wakatoshi slides down his body once again, settles between his legs and places a gentle kiss underneath Tooru's navel.

Gold eyes look up and he takes the setter's member in his mouth again. Tooru takes a hold of the second pillow and puts it on top of the first, so he can lie in a half-sitting position and have a better view. As Wakatoshi's tongue skillfully works his cock, Tooru notices Wakatoshi's right hand taking off the condom he is wearing and tossing it aside.

He raises an eyebrow, wants to ask for an explanation, but then his hips are being roughly pulled forward as Wakatoshi takes all of him.

Tooru groans, throwing his head back – he can't believe Wakatoshi is better at this than him; he can't believe he doesn't make him do this often either. The way Wakatoshi hollows his cheeks and swirls his tongue around him makes shivers run down his spine.

Tooru just can't control his hand as it travels down to bury itself in Wakatoshi's dark hair. He doesn't guide him in his movements; Wakatoshi is doing more than fine already.

As much as he thought he was craving for distraction and pain, Tooru finds himself growing close to orgasm.

He grunts irritatedly when Wakatoshi pulls away and pushes long, pale legs to his chest. He forgives him immediately, because that tongue is immediately back, this time lapping at his sore hole. It hurts slightly, but Tooru forgets about it not even ten seconds later.

Wakatoshi gently pushes against the entrance, meeting little resistance, a hand holding Tooru's buttock for a better access and the other pumping his cock gently.

“Oh, _fuck_ \- Keep doing that.”

Wakatoshi obeys and Tooru's vision blurs.

It doesn't take long for Tooru to come; thick, white spurts of cum stain his abdomen and Wakatoshi's hand and the fingers inside of him press gently against his prostate through it. He moans loudly, his toes curling and back arching. When he comes down from his high, he is panting hard, his body sweaty and exhausted, but satisfied nonetheless.

He blinks sleepily when Wakatoshi stands up and goes to retrieve his clothes.

Tooru sits up, doesn't understand.

“Where are you going?”

Wakatoshi turns around. “To rinse my mouth. It would be unhygienic not to.”

Tooru stares dumbfounded as Wakatoshi exits the room. He hears the water running in the bathroom and waits, not even able to breathe.

When Wakatoshi returns, he is fully dressed and carrying a damp towel in his left hand. He approaches the bed and kneels next to the setter. He first takes one of the tissues from the nightstand and proceeds to wipe off the cum on Tooru's abdomen; he freshens him up then with the towel and Tooru just stays still, watching.

His eyes travel to Wakatoshi's crotch and he doesn't fail to notice the hardness.

“What about you?” he asks, but Wakatoshi leans in and kisses him gently. “Do not worry about that. Lie down,” he says and Tooru shifts. He hisses when he bends his legs to slide forward – he is definitely going to have a hard time walking tomorrow, even though Wakatoshi has prevented the damage he could have brought upon himself.

Wakatoshi pulls a blanket over him and then lays down himself, on top of it.

“Aren't you going to be cold?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Tooru whispers and then rolls on the bed so he is lying on his side, back facing the wing spiker. The warmth he feels irradiating from his body is strong even when there are two layers of fabric separating them. He exhales, but it comes out shakily.

“Oikawa.

“Hm?”

“What's wrong?”

Tooru stiffens.

A strand of hair is removed from his forehead and he wants to speak, but he just can't find the words. Nothing comes out, so he buries his face in the pillow.

Wakatoshi kisses his nape.

They have never really talked about their pasts. Wakatoshi never initiates the theme – there are too many grudges and bitterness and everything he wants to forget. Tooru also never talks about it – Iwaizumi Hajime is never mentioned, nor is Kageyama Tobio or anyone else.

There is only that same “You piss me off,” Tooru likes to tell him, more out of habit than anything else. Wakatoshi lets him, because he knows he doesn't mean it.

They try to only look forward, but that doesn't mean Wakatoshi doesn't understand the way Tooru works. He knows when something is wrong and he knows the disposition on Tooru's part to push himself to his limits when he wants to get out of situation he hates; sometimes it is useful as a distraction.

And he knows how it works and he doesn't want to have anything to do with it, if not to drag him out of his miseries, like he had promised years ago.

“Oikawa.”

Tooru closes his eyes.

“Do not ask me to hurt you again.”

***

Tooru doesn't behave weirdly after that. He is his normal cheerful self, hard-working and charismatic as he always is.

Wakatoshi knows something is off.

But whenever he even tries to talk about it, Tooru just shrugs. “Don't be silly, Ushiwaka-chan. Of course nothing's wrong!”

His training with Tobio has intensified on coach's request, which gives Tooru time to practice with Kōtarō and Tetsurō more than usual.

He started to stay late at the gym once again.

Wakatoshi doesn't understand.

He just can't focus on Tobio's tosses, because his eyes keep traveling to Tooru, who is mostly working on jump tosses. Tobio and him are tossing to each other, taking a small break from the practice. They end up farther away from where the setter is and Tobio seems to be observing him as well, Wakatoshi notices.

He doesn't ask.

It is not needed, because Tobio speaks first.

“Ushijima-san, I think there is something wrong with Oikawa-san.” There is an uncertain tone in his voice.

It catches Wakatoshi's attention.

“What do you mean? Did he say something to you?”

He knows it's highly improbable; from what he knows, Tobio and Tooru have never had this amazing relationship between kōhai and senpai. He doesn't know every single detail of it – Tooru only ever mentioned how much Tobio pisses him off; Wakatoshi doesn't know every detail of their past.

Tobio dares a step forward after making sure Tooru is not looking at them.

Wakatoshi meets him halfway.

“Is... is it normal for Oikawa-san to practice _this_ much?”

Wakatoshi raises an eyebrow, thinks about it carefully. Tooru surely does practice hard. He has since the beginning, but lately- It is like that one time in the past, a few weeks after they moved in together. “He has always been hard-working. You should know that better than me. Though I was forced to ask him to stop quite a few times last week.”

“So he's obsessive.”

“I would say so.”

Tobio frowns, looks away. “Did... Did this by any chance start as I got here?”

Wakatoshi tilts his head to the side, thinks about it very carefully.

And-

“I think it did.”

Tobio takes a step back and glances at the setter, but Wakatoshi doesn't allow him to keep the distance and closes it with a couple of steps. “I also noticed he is behaving oddly when he thinks he is not seen.”

Wakatoshi will never forget the way he trembled and whimpered underneath him that night. He doesn't want to see him like that again.

Tobio nods, understands the situation – or at least thinks he does.

“It's my fault,” he says. “It's just like in middle school.”

Wakatoshi glares, takes another step forward until there are only a few centimeters between their faces. “Stop beating around the bush, Kageyama. What business do you have with Oikawa?”

Tobio swallows hard, looks away because despite his denseness, he still isn't able to face Wakatoshi without Shōyō and the others. “I... I don't really understand it. He is acting like he did when we were in middle school. He's incredibly moody, trains without any boundaries and... He seems so angry when I train with you.”

Wakatoshi doesn't understand.

Gold eyes observe as Tobio lowers his head. “I really don't understand... I'm not even asking him to teach me anything.”

“Why are you saying this?”

Tobio shakes his head.

“How can you know it is the same?”

“Because it _is_ the same. Though Oikawa-san is trying to contain himself. Last time Iwaizumi-san talked to him, but he isn't here now. So... I don't know.”

That is enough for Wakatoshi to snap. He turns on his heal, heads quickly to where Tooru is still practicing with the others, barges in and takes a hold of Tooru's wrist, right before he tosses the ball in the air for a jump serve.

Tooru blinks a couple of times, in shock. “Ushiwaka-chan?”

Wakatoshi looks at his face, at his neck. He is sweating way too much.

“Let's go home.”

He doesn't wait for a reply before turning around and dragging Tooru with him, an action so uncommon if not impossible to witness with a man like Wakatoshi. Tooru doesn't breathe until it dawns on him that Wakatoshi _really_ wants to leave practice early with him.

He plants his feet on the wooden floor and struggles until his arm is free from the grasp. He stops and watches as Wakatoshi turns around to glare at him. “What the hell is wrong with you? I'm not going home now. It's not even six!”

Wakatoshi just stares at him.

“I need you to come home with me.”

Their distance is eliminated with one single step.

“Now.”

Hazel eyes are wide once more, eyebrows raised and mouth wide open. He doesn't really know whether he should be scared or excited about this. But he sure can't deny Wakatoshi what he asked.

“Okay, okay... Let's pick up our things and go.”

Wakatoshi nods and leads the way, Tooru close behind.

In the locker rooms, they change quickly, in silence. Wakatoshi is a little faster, so when Tooru finishes, he doesn't even manage to react. “Let's go,” the wing spiker urges.

“Yeah, yeah...” Tooru mumbles, annoyed by the commanding tone of voice. He throws his bag over his shoulder, adjusts it the way it's most comfortable to carry around and heads out.

Wakatoshi once again walks ahead of him, not bothering to look back and only when they are outside the campus grounds does he slow down slowly, until they are walking side by side. Tooru is looking at him with a curious look, a small smirk on his face, a number of possible scenarios in his head.

“Could you tell me what's happening with you?” he finally asks, but Wakatoshi keeps looking forward. “I need to talk to you.”

Tooru's smirk disappears at that and a little worry begins to grow in his stomach. He increases speed, wanting to be over with this.

When they arrive at the apartment, Tooru puts the bag in his room and then removes his sweatshirt, throwing it on the bed without care. Then, he returns to the kitchen, where Wakatoshi is standing, waiting for him.

“Now, can you please tell me what's happening?” he asks quietly as he walks to him until there are only a few centimeters separating them. “What could be so important that has got _you_ to ask me to skip practice?” As he asks his question, his hand grab those broad shoulders.

But Wakatoshi doesn't let him press himself against him.

He grabs his wrists and makes him take a step back. He doesn't let him go though, only looks into his eyes. “We need to talk.”

Tooru tilts his head to the side. “We can talk later, can't we?” With his thumbs, he caresses the rough skin of Wakatoshi's hands. He definitely needs to put some cream on them, or the skin is going to crack.

Wakatoshi scowls. “I am serious.” He lets go of the setter and motions him to sit at the table. The setter pouts, mutters a quiet, “I was serious as well,” but doesn't complain.

The way Wakatoshi sits is tense, Tooru notices. His posture is perfect, as always, but his shoulders are stiff and his back isn't leaned on the backrest. Tooru sits in front of him. “Tell me now.”

“No,” Wakatoshi says. “You will be the one to speak.”

Tooru gasps.

“There is something bothering you and you are holding it in.”

It is Tooru's shoulders' turn to stiffen. He freezes in his spot, feels his blood flow slowing down as the red liquid turns cold. It feels cold in his veins. “Huh? But I'm fine.”

Wakatoshi's eyes don't move from him, skeptical and judging. Tooru straightens up, the backrest now uncomfortable for him as well. “Don't look at me like that; I said I'm fine,” he repeats but his voice cracks. He understands his weakness and tries to stand up to get out of here, but Wakatoshi already knows how to hold him back. Those slender wrists fit so perfectly in the palm of his hand.

Tooru is forced to stay down.

“I'm telling you I'm fine. You don't need to worry. I'm fine. I'm fine...” he repeats like a mantra and Wakatoshi firmly believes that Tooru is doing his best to convince himself of that. But he isn't buying it, because they both know what is it that they want to know.

“Enough. There is something wrong and you must talk about it. With me.” His voice is louder than usual, it's deepness echoing in the room around them, making the hairs on Tooru's nape raise. But it also makes his rage and all of his defenses stand up, weary of the situation. “I don't need you to be my psychiatrist, Ushiwaka-chan. Leave me alone and everything will be just _fine,_ ” he yells as he tries to break free from the umpteenth time that day.

“Do you honestly think I could leave this behind and move on?” Wakatoshi asks, eyes strict and demanding and shiny underneath the bright light in the kitchen.

But it is not enough to make Tooru take back his words or change his mind.

He clicks with his tongue, rolls his eyes. “And here I thought that you brought me home to ravish me,” he says, mostly to himself, but when Wakatoshi's grip tightens and his eyes narrow dangerously, he snorts. “What do you want me to say, Ushijima?”

“Everything. Tell me everything that bothers you. If I don't know what is on your mind, I can not help you throughout it.”

It is everything it takes for Tooru to snap. “Everything that bothers me?! Good! I'll tell you what it is that _fucking_ bothers me!” he yells. “It's that damn brat!”

Wakatoshi blinks, tries to stand up before Tooru manages to, but fails, because Tooru is already on his feet, rage coming out of every single pore.

“I tried everything to get out of his reach. I escaped from him once and yet he came back, he came back and threatened to overcome me! Do you know what pisses me off? He trains half as hard as I do and is still far better than me, even if he is a damn newbie who hasn't been on the team for more than two months!”

Wakatoshi opens his mouth, but is cut off once again.

“Shut up! You want me to talk, so I will! I _have_ to train. I know you scold me all the time and Iwa-chan used to the same, but. You. Just. Don't. Understand.”

Wakatoshi shakes his head. “Oikawa, do not be silly! I-”

“You what?! Don't you even dare to tell me you do, because you don't,” Tooru growls, pauses for a moment and a broken smile makes its way on his face. “And do you know what's the worst part of all this? He was the one who came to me, to ask if we could play together properly... As if I were some kind of stubborn kid who doesn't know to do better than to get pissed off whenever something goes in a different way than planned.”

He looks at his pale hands, bruised and full of calluses and then clenches them into fists.

“I fucking did everything to deserve my spot. I won't let him have it.”

Wakatoshi takes a step towards him, but Tooru just walks away again.

“I don't care about what you say, or what you want to do about me, or whatever you think you know. I don't want to hear it. I just...”

Suddenly all the strength and wrath those words were let out with disappear. Tooru's shoulders grow limp and his gaze lowers to the floor.

“I don't want to get substituted now that I finally got my gears going. I can't believe you made me skip practice to tell you what you should already know.”

Wakatoshi figures he must have done this wrong, because Tooru doesn't look all that better. He keeps staring at his trembling hands, so the spiker takes a step forward, reaches out for the setter, but this time he isn't able to grasp him.

“I'm going to have a bath. Don't bother me,” Tooru mumbles and leaves.

Wakatoshi stands still, not really knowing how to behave.

Tobio told him what to do, but he didn't tell him the consequences. Somehow he doesn't blame him and blames himself for waiting for so long that Tooru had to end up bursting like this.

He listens to the doors opening and closing, then to the boiler going off as the water pours into the tub. He walks to the small corridor only to hear the door of the bathroom being locked.

He doesn't try to persuade Tooru into opening up, so he returns to where he came from and tries to figure out what to do next.

Today is Thursday. He glances at the clock. Tooru must want to watch the Sports' News later and then those silly dramas he so likes to pick apart. And then there is a movie later on and he remembers listening to Tooru talking about it. “I can't miss it, Ushiwaka-chan,” he told him a few nights ago.

He might be hungry later and he doubts he'll want to eat if he made something for him.

Since he hasn't taken off his tracksuit yet, he walks out of the apartment after taking the wallet out of his bag and stuffing his pocket with it. He goes to buy Tooru's favorite pizza, some milk bread, though it's late to go and buy it at the bakery, so he hopes the one from the store will be satisfying enough. He buys a couple of drinks and decides to prepare some tea for later in the evening.

He knows he shouldn't spoil him this much – he's always judged Hajime for that, but he can't help but feel guilty whenever he remembers that pained grimace and trembling hands. He can't help but think there must have been another type of approach for situations like this.

He doesn't waste much time outside, so when he thinks he has everything, he storms out of the convenience store and returns to their apartment. Tooru still isn't out of the bath when he opens the door, the bathroom is still locked and he can't help to be slightly worried.

He leaves the bag on the counter and heads to him. He knocks on the door not without hesitance.

“I'm coming out now. If you have to pee, hold it in another five minutes.”

Wakatoshi chuckles quietly and for some reason finds himself standing there, for those whole five minutes, until Tooru opens the door, wearing only his sweatpants and a towel around his neck. He says nothing when he finds Wakatoshi there, their eyes don't meet, but Wakatoshi swears he sees a trace of redness in them, around those beautiful, long eyelashes.

The setter walks past him, stops in his room to grab a shirt and then heads for the living room.

Wakatoshi follows him and watches as he takes the small blanket on the edge of the couch and wraps it over himself. Instead of sprawling all over the place like he usually does, he sits into a corner, brings his legs to his chest and turns on the TV.

Wakatoshi sighs and proceeds to set the coffee table for him. The whole time he feels those hazel eyes staring at him, but says absolutely nothing about it. When everything is ready, he goes to the bathroom, where he opens the first drawer next to the sink and pulls out a small box of gel. He brings it to the couch and sits on the free spot.

Tooru hasn't touched any food yet, and it's odd.

“You should eat,” Wakatoshi says, but Tooru doesn't reply.

“Come here,” he continued, but once again receives no reply.

This isn't settled until Tooru decides to behave normally again, Wakatoshi decides. So he takes the box with both hands, eyes low on it. “It was Kageyama who told me to talk to you.” He ignores the gasp of shock and the bewildered look he receives. “He said you were behaving in a weird way and that you needed to be talked to before you injured yourself from overwork. I do not want to repeat the experience with your right knee, so please, understand the reason behind my insistence to understand.”

“Why did you ask him about me?” Tooru finally speaks, so quietly it's barely audible.

“He came to me.”

Tooru presses his lips into a thin line.

_Oh._

Wakatoshi glances at him from the corner of his eye, and when he notices the relaxation in Tooru's stature, he finally motions him to lie down. He uncovers his right leg and raises the sleeve of his pants up to his thigh – thankfully, the fabric is really soft and easily workable.

Tooru wants to ask, but then decides against it, when Wakatoshi takes off the cap and pours some of the gel in his hand. He smears it over Tooru's pale skin, works it over his knee carefully.

“It doesn't hurt.”

“It doesn't matter. You put enough stress on it these last days. You must rest properly tomorrow.”

Tooru clicks with his tongue. “But we have practice.”

“It doesn't matter.”

When the skin absorbs the ointment, Wakatoshi pulls away, wipes his hands in his shirt and then leans back into the couch. “Eat, or it will turn cold.”

He receives a nod and allows a small smile to slip from his lips. He lies down on the cushions, bending his legs so he doesn't steal Tooru's space on the large L couch and watches him through sleepy eyes as he takes a bite from everything he brought him.

“I know you must not want to hear this.”

“I already don't think I want to from the way you started. But continue, so I know if I can drink this juice or if I should just spill it all over you.”

Wakatoshi blinks. “I believe you should give Kageyama a chance.”

“You're tempting me way too much.”

“You saw what he was capable of when he was still playing for Karasuno. You are much better than Sugawara Kōshi, so imagine all the variety of plays you could put to use,” Wakatoshi explains and this time, Tooru listens with interest. “Besides, you would be able to spike and attack more, while no one would take your spot as a setter, since you would be switching roles often. I think coach might value it greatly.”

Tooru pouts, looks away.

“Oikawa, there is no more room for running away.”

Tooru knows he's right and he hates it.

“He is not better than you,” the wing spiker adds.

“Yet.”

Wakatoshi shifts from his position and leans over the setter, places a gentle kiss on the corner of his lips and nuzzles into his cheek when he tastes the pizza on them.

Tobio still has a way to go, and he surely doesn't want to steal Tooru's spot. But he will make sure he starts to believe it another time.

***

“Tobio-chan, come over here!”

Tobio almost drops the ball when he hears that smooth voice calling his name. He turns around, finds a hand raised in greeting. He walks to the older setter without thinking twice though – there are many people in the gym, so he is pretty sure there won't be any excessive scenes.

When he is a step away from Tooru, his blue eyes notice the black notebook lying on the small table in the corner of the gym, right in front of Tooru, with an empty page with his name on it.

“Oikawa-san?”

“Sit,” the Grand King commands and he obeys.

Tooru takes a hold of his pen and grins, at the same time offering him a challenging look and a pair of bright hazel eyes.

“So, Tobio-chan... Let me know what kind of tosses you'd like to receive from the great Oikawa-san.”

Tobio pinches himself so hard the bruise doesn't leave his arm for three weeks.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this chapter ready since last night. I told myself I would upload this at school, but... Maintenance issues. At least I managed to put this up today - I already thought I would steal a precious day of planning from myself. Thank God it won't happen.
> 
> What should I say about this chapter? I don't really know... Tobio-chan is my baby - I just had to put him here, especially since both, Oikawa and Ushijima are in the National team and, with Tobio's talent, it is only obvious that he got scouted as well.
> 
> Oikawa is the usual frightened, auto-destructive baby and Ushijima doesn't know what the hell is going on. 
> 
> It was fun writing this. I might come back by the end of the week for a last-minute grammar/spelling check. I apologize in advance if you find any mistakes. 
> 
> ***
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. Every Kudo, Comment or Bookmark means the world to me! 
> 
> See ya at the next update!


	10. First Names on Rainy Days (So Full of Love I Can Barely Breathe)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been two years and three months since they moved in together.
> 
> Tooru has become more honest with himself. 
> 
> Things are much better than what he used to think in the beginning. So much better.

It's been two years and three months since they moved in together.

Tooru has become more honest with himself.

Things are much better than what he used to think in the beginning. So much better.

He imagines a hypothetical situation where he could travel through time and space, where he could go back to his seventeen years old self to tell him about the days he is living right now. His younger self would probably stare at him wide-eyed, maybe even disgusted or disappointed, he isn't sure.

“It is better than I thought it would be,” he would tell him. “Don't underestimate him. His denseness isn't his only characteristic.”

When people ask, he does say it.

Every time she calls, his mother likes to ask if he is doing alright, if he is missing anyone or anything, if Wakatoshi is treating him with care and gentleness.

Tooru says he is more than fine, living his dream when it comes to the sport he loves more than himself or anyone else; he misses people from Miyagi, his best friend – his mother tells him she hears about Hajime every now and then, and that she does see him in town when she goes shopping, but Tooru never asks more than that, even though he would really love to know; there are times when he thinks about going shopping in Sendai as well, because maybe he could get lucky and see him too (though he doesn't really know what he would say to him if that happened) – and other people from his high school he knows are still living there. He hasn't gone to visit Aobajōsai once since he graduated. A few games he did go to see, but nothing more than that.

And about Wakatoshi...

“He is the best, mom. You already know that.”

He hears the quiet chuckle coming from the other side of the phone. “He's not home right now, is he?” she asks with an amused tone of voice.

Tooru snorts. “And how do you know that?”

“Because you said he is the best. You never say he is.”

“I'm just trying not to bust his ego even more,” Tooru lies, because he still refrains himself from telling Wakatoshi what he truly thinks about him. He still doesn't admit he is and always was the best choice for him, the best partner he could ever have on the court.

Maybe in life too.

His knee hasn't hurt since the day after what he and Hajime had started to fall apart. Wakatoshi cares about him as if he were a part of him, a _fundamental_ part of him.

“To you I can't lie, mom. I just can't.”

His mother smiles and, even though he can't see her, he knows she does. “I'm so happy you found the right person. I must thank Wakatoshi for putting up with you.”

Tooru whines. “But you always tell him that!”

The moment those words leave his mouth, the door of their apartment opens, revealing Wakatoshi holding two bags filled with groceries. He puts everything on the kitchen table, close to where Tooru is sitting. With the corner of his eye, the setter spots a package of milk bread lying on top of the contents of the closest bag.

“I should go now. Ushiwaka-chan is back. I'll call you next week, okay?”

His mother says goodbye to him, along with the usual recommendations to behave and take care of himself, to eat properly, to sleep enough. He promises he will, like he always does. “Besides, Ushiwaka-chan is here, so don't worry.”

When he ends the call, he finds gold eyes staring at him. Tooru observes those lips, pressed into a thin line – he must be thinking about what he just said.

“What was that about?”

Tooru shakes his head. “Nothing.” With that, he stands up, pulls out of the bag the package with the milk bread and hums. It always surprises him how naturally comes to Wakatoshi to wrap his arm around him when they are alone and close, the way his hand rests on his lower back, gently rubbing circles against the fabric of his t-shirt.

Tooru presses a soft kiss on his cheek and sighs against the hot skin.

It really _is_ surprising how natural _this_ is.

***

Running together has become one of their many habits by now.

At first Wakatoshi used to have his moment in the morning and Tooru in the evening, but after a rainy morning in their second year, Wakatoshi found himself with Tooru on his side on a cloudy and early Wednesday afternoon.

It was a little weird; there's never been anyone able to match his speed in a long distance run, but Tooru, surprisingly, managed to follow him for all the eight kilometers he brings upon himself on a daily basis. Needless to say, the setter's need to constantly compete with him brought him to never leave Wakatoshi's side.

It's been one year since that day; a little more.

Wakatoshi glances at his side, where Tooru is effortlessly keeping up, hazel eyes focused but at the same time lost in front of him, his breathing steady and regular. Wakatoshi focuses on it – an inhale every three steps, a pause worth one, and then an exhale for another three.

Tooru sure learned the best drill.

A drop lands on his cheek and Wakatoshi blinks, his pace slowing down slightly. Tooru seems to notice it only when he is already a dozen steps away and only when he stops, does the rain start to pour from the cloudy sky.

Rainy seasons are usually unpredictable, though the weather programs tend to give an estimate of the probability of rain, and today had a low percentage, so Wakatoshi thought they were safe at least until the evening. He watches as Tooru curses and looks up – the water's been coming down for only about a minute and they are both already soaked to the bone and the streets turned empty except for the cars.

There are three kilometers left to get to their apartment and before the wing spiker is about to suggest to wait for the bus at the nearby stop, he finds Tooru closer to him, his long bangs sticking to his forehead for a moment before he moves them away, sticking them on the top of his head instead. There is a playful smirk on his face and a challenging look in his eyes.

“Ne, Ushiwaka-chan?”

It comes naturally to the wing spiker to hesitate. “Yes?”

“How about us having a little race? To the apartment. To see who's faster.”

Frankly, Wakatoshi isn't really fond of racing in the rain – there are too many risks for any of them to slip, fall and get hurt, but Tooru doesn't seem to be minimally bothered by it. So he tries to forget about it and succeeds. “As you wish.”

“What do I get if I win?”

Wakatoshi tilts his head to the side, confused. He doesn't know the answer to that. What could Toou possibly want if he won?

The setter rolls his eyes and runs a hand through his wet hair before shaking his head. “Geez, Ushi _baka_ -chan! You are too slow! I can feel the water soaking my bones!”

“I believe that is impossible, Oikawa. Skin is waterproo-”

Before he can end the sentence, Tooru is already darting forward with a “Go!” slipping out of his mouth in a rather loud tone of voice and it takes only a second for Wakatoshi to realize that their small race has already started. He starts to run as well, pushing himself a little further than before and in no time, he is at Tooru's side again, this time their pace being much faster.

Tooru growls lowly, but doesn't let himself get distracted too much.

It is apparently an important challenge to him, so Wakatoshi decides to take it seriously.

He wins, as usual. And it doesn't take too big of an effort, because he's always been gifted with speed despite his huge body. Tooru's frustrated groan is rather amusing to hear, especially when the difference between their arrivals was only two seconds long more or less.

Tooru pouts all the time they spend in the elevator, and also when Wakatoshi opens the door. He steps in first and then watches as Tooru follows him. They make a mess of the tiles of the floor, but there are priorities, Wakatoshi thinks. There will be plenty of time to clean up later.

“We should have a shower and then put on some dry clothes,” Wakatoshi suggests and, still a little irritated, Tooru agrees. They shower together and, to make Tooru ease up a little, Wakatoshi offers to wash his back and he does his best to give Tooru a proper massage while at it.

He runs his fingers over defined muscles with ease, his memory absorbing even more details of him than what he already has in stock. The softness of Tooru's pale skin never ceases to surprise him. The way it pulls over him as his muscles tense and relax is almost hypnotizing for the wing spiker, even after all this time.

The small bumps of his spine feel so familiar under his fingertips – Wakatoshi wonders if he could reproduce it on paper just by memory – even though now there is so much muscle over them, thanks to proper food and training Tooru goes through every day. Wakatoshi remembers when the bones used to pop out much more.

He looks healthy – he hasn't got sick for a year now. Wakatoshi hopes he never gets sick again, even though he likes to take care about him, despite his even whinier behavior and mood swings.

He keeps running large hands over ribs and waist, then down to well-defined hips, where they stop, holding the setter in place against his own body and letting the water fall over them both. It is nicer than the rain, Wakatoshi thinks; warmer, more intimate. This is just the two of them.

Wakatoshi would say it without thinking twice if someone asked.

Wakatoshi is in love.

Hopelessly and helplessly.

Sometimes he fears Tooru might not feel the same way about him; he is afraid all of those grudges will come back at once to tear them apart and he doesn't want that.

For all this time, he's been doing everything in his power to make Tooru feel safe and comfortable in their... _home_. Because this is what it feels like for Wakatoshi.

Tooru tilts his head back, leaning it against a strong shoulder – Wakatoshi has gained a few more centimeters lately and the setter often complains of how he'll never stop growing and about not being able to catch up to him. But height doesn't matter, because by now, if Tooru asked him to get down on his knees and stay like that to make him feel better, he would.

The wing spiker resumes his massage on Tooru's back, pressing here and there and undoing every single tense spot in his shoulders – Tooru sometimes grows stiff when tossing too much and today that's the case.

Wakatoshi has never failed to noticed the little grimaces on his face every now and then, especially before an important tournament.

Tooru relaxes under his touch in a matter of minutes and only when the sweat is away from their bodies do they finally hop into the bathtub full of hot water.

It is strange for Wakatoshi. Even after all these years.

Taking baths together has become one of their many habits – Tooru likes to say it's to avoid the waste of time and water, but even when they have lots of time he looks for Wakatoshi to ask him if he wants to join him. It's been like this ever since the first time Wakatoshi saw Tooru almost overworking himself at the gym.

Wakatoshi's rough, callused fingers work their way through Tooru's hair, gently massaging his scalp and he would give anything to have a better view of Tooru's peaceful expression.

They had practice in the morning and the coach gave them a free afternoon, so there isn't really anywhere they are supposed to be later. “Do you want to invite the others here later?” he asks and Tooru hums quietly.

“I don't know if Tetsu-chan will want to come. He hates it when it rains, but we can try. We could also watch those new movies we bought.”

“Maybe Bokuto and Satori can convince him.”

“Maybe. If it doesn't go through, there will be the two of us, as usual.”

Not that they'd mind.

“Alright.”

Tooru sighs and rinses his hair quickly before standing up, careful not to slip. He looks at Wakatoshi and smiles. “I'll head out. I'm kind of hungry.” And it is normal, Wakatoshi thinks. He will make them something to eat immediately.

Tooru heads out of the bathroom first, with only a towel around his waist and one around his neck and he heads to his bedroom to pick out some clean clothes. He puts on his underwear and pants first and then his eyes catch a glimpse of the shelf next to the window, where all the awards he received after joining his university's team are neatly put.

He remembers when he was so flustered and excited about his first 'Best Setter Award' that he almost went to sleep with it.

Now there are many more. And all the pictures with his team with various trophies of the various tournaments only emphasize the amount of tops they reached all together.

He barely registers the noise coming from the bathroom in the background, too enchanted with the stuffed shelf. They might need to add one underneath it very soon.

Tooru blinks when he feels warm hands on his waist, now softened calluses brush over his skin as a pleasant distraction, but he doesn't turn his head around and instead lest Wakatoshi press his chest against his back, gold eyes focused on the same objects.

They don't speak for a long while and Tooru would really like to tease his ace, ask him whether he's already fallen asleep or not, but he just can't bring himself to. This moment seems rather... precious, unique. It is the first time the setter actually starts to contemplate everything that's surrounding him.

He wonders how he didn't notice that shelf filling up so quickly.

It all happened so fast. In less than three years.

“I promised you, didn't I?” Wakatoshi speaks.

Tooru clicks with his tongue, but there is no irritation in it, because a chuckle and a smile escape from his control. “You're impossible. You really are impossible,” he says and Wakatoshi smiles back. And there are other things he wants to say, because there is so much to say. _“There could be many more,”_ or _“I wish I could have shown you sooner.”_

He wishes he could have shown him sooner.

But, in the end, he did show him.

And that's everything that matters.

Without realizing it, his arms have Tooru's body caged against himself in a too tight grip, if Tooru's strained huff is any sign.

He lets go and watches as Tooru turns around to give him an amused look.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

With that, Tooru proceeds to throw on his shirt, and then goes to the bathroom to hang the towels to dry. As he does it, he notices his nails, their length, so he immediately decides to look for his set and brings it to the kitchen with him. There, he finds Wakatoshi waiting for him, already fully dressed and sitting at their dining table with his tablet and reading glasses on.

Tooru sits opposite to him and takes out the nail trimmer.

Wakatoshi's eyes leave what he's trying to read and look at the setter's face and then down, to where his hands are on the table, gently taking care of trimming every single nail, slowly and carefully, just past his fingertips. Wakatoshi observes every single movement, like he's been doing at least once a week for more than two years.

Tooru has long stopped to say something about it. He just lets him watch and there is no need to speak of anything, because it works just fine like this.

Then, a thunder roars outside and Tooru stops when there are just two fingers left.

He turns around and gazes at the dark sky and the buckets of rain coming down. His lips are pressed in a thin line and Wakatoshi just can't bring himself not to watch him. He quickly gets back to watching his hands.

“Resume,” he whispers, but Tooru hears.

He turns around, blinks.

Quickly, the rest of his nails are all trimmed and fixed, but Wakatoshi isn't satisfied. He takes a hold of the small,black file and Tooru's hand. Then, he proceeds to round up every single nail, careful not to brush skin with it – Tooru told him once that he doesn't like how it feels.

“You're behaving as if they were yours,” Tooru tells him, quietly.

Wakatoshi just smiles at that. “I would like to think they are.”

Tooru's eyes widen for a fraction of second, before he is laughing, trying his best to control himself so Wakatoshi can keep doing what he does. “Okay. That was _so_ cheesy!” he teases and laughs some more.

Wakatoshi doesn't do as much as blink. “I mean it, Oikawa.”

Tooru shuts up.

“Besides, those nails often dig into my back, so I must make sure to limit the damage as much as possible.”

There is a long moment of silence, broken only by the sound of the rain.

Tooru licks his lips. He knows he is blushing.

That was an obvious reference to one of his... fetishes in bed. But he can't help it. He loves to leave marks with his nails as much as Wakatoshi loves to leave them with his teeth.

“Was that a joke?”

“Partially.”

Tooru pouts. “So stiff,” he mumbles.

Wakatoshi finishes and sets the small tools back in the box, before wiping the table clean. He then walks to the fridge and pulls out a pitcher full of the lemonade he prepared this morning, while Tooru was still sleeping. He pours it into two glasses and sets them on the table.

“What would you like to eat?” he asks, leaning on the counter.

Tooru seems to think about it a little. “Do we still have some meat left? We forgot to do the shopping this morning.”

“Yes.”

“Then make some tonkatsu. It's simple – I don't really want to wait too long,” he explains. In that moment, his stomach growls and Wakatoshi gets the message.

He pulls the meat out of the fridge – they had some last night as well, and he didn't want to freeze it, because he knew they were going to consume it by tonight. He sets it on the counter and then pulls out of one of the cupboards some panko and oil and ultimately gathers all the spices he needs.

“Could you preheat the oven?” he asks and Tooru stands up.

“What temperature?”

“Two-hundred.”

With that, Wakatoshi proceeds to put oil and the panko into a frying pan and puts it on the cookers, setting the heat to medium. “Oikawa, could you keep an eye on this. I would not want it to end up burned.”

“Yes, boss,” Tooru snorts and stands next to him.

Finally, Wakatoshi begins to take care of the two steaks of pork in front of him. He gets rid of all the fat by cutting it off – once he didn't remove it all and Tooru complained for the whole evening about how he can't cook. Once the piece of meat is clean, the wing spiker takes a hold of the meat pounder in front of him and treats the meat.

When satisfied with the result, he remolds it into its original shape, though now full of little holes that don't pierce through. He flavors it with salt and pepper, putting a little more on his steak and a little less on Tooru's.

“It's gotten brown,” comes from next to him and gold eyes peek into the pan. “Good.”

Tooru turns off the heat and then looks at him with a small smile. Wakatoshi doesn't have to give him any more instructions, because Toorumoves on his own. He grabs two plates, and then some eggs and flour. He breaks the egg into one and pours the flour on the other and sets them next to Wakatoshi.

As Wakatoshi breads the meat, he also prepares a tin with a baking sheet in it. When done, Wakatoshi puts the meat on it and proceeds to put it in the oven.

Tooru's stomach growls again and he groans.

Wakatoshi's lips curve up gently and he proceeds to prepare the sauce. “Would you mind washing the vegetables?” he asks Tooru. “That way, time will run faster.”

Tooru huffs and pulls out a cabbage and some tomatoes and walks to the sink. He is quick to wash everything and then Wakatoshi takes his place in the cutting and the serving on two plates he took out in the meanwhile. He glances at the clock when it is done and figures there are seven more minutes left before the meat is cooked.

A thunder roars outside the window and Tooru flinches.

He goes to the living room and approaches the large window, peeking outside. “Woah, it's pouring. I think we'll stay alone tonight. If I were those guys, I wouldn't go out with a storm like this.”

The moment he finishes speaking, the phone vibrates on the coffee table. Before he can even turn around, Wakatoshi is picking it up and handing it to him. Tooru raises an eyebrow. “You can read as well, why are you giving it to me?”

Wakatoshi shrugs. “It is your phone. It is not up to me to read your messages or answer your calls.”

Tooru laughs, genuinely. All this time and Wakatoshi still insists on respecting his privacy, gives him an appropriate amount of space.

He appreciates it dearly.

More than he could ever express it in words.

He unlocks the item and finds Satori's message.

“Yup, we'll be on our own tonight.”

Wakatoshi nods. They stand next to each other for what seems like an eternity, just looking out of the window at the pitch black sky and water falling everywhere. The drops are thick and make a lot of noise, but here, in their home... It almost seems nice.

Or at least, Wakatoshi thinks so.

And Tooru does too.

Eventually, the few minutes needed pass by quickly and Wakatoshi pulls out the tin and cuts the meat while Tooru sets the table. They eat sitting in front of each other, on the same chairs that become _their_ spots since day one.

Tooru puts some ice in the lemonade. “It's too sour,” he says and Wakatoshi suggests to put some water in the mix. The setter doesn't comply and claims some melted ice will be enough.

They eat rather quickly – Tooru is hungry and Wakatoshi kind of is, too, especially after seeing Tooru eat as if he hadn't touched food in three days. It is rather adorable, but Wakatoshi doesn't tell him, or he would probably blush and get offended and make his life harder for a futile reason.

So he sticks with finishing his meal.

Tooru offers to do the dishes and tells the spiker to turn on the TV, because he doesn't want to miss the sports' news. There isn't much to wash anyway, so he'll join him soon enough.

Wakatoshi sets the many cushions on the couch in a way that he knows is comfortable for Tooru and then waits. He raises the volume a bit – the noise coming from the outside is too much.

Tooru is taking a little more than Wakatoshi thought he would, and he takes a look at the kitchen from where he sits, only to find Tooru preparing some tea. Green tea, apparently – Wakatoshi recognizes the jar.

About ten minutes later, a tray is lain on the coffee table and the tea is served in two tall mugs with some snacks in the middle and Tooru is falling back until he is sprawled on his side of the couch, hazel eyes glued on the screen. The news he wants to see are starting.

They have their appearance – their team is doing pretty good in the preliminary matches, so it would be impossible not to feature them.

Wakatoshi takes off his glasses and takes a hold of his cup. Tooru put some honey in it; his uncle had sent some freshly made a few weeks ago. Tooru puts it wherever he can; be it tea or milk – fortunately he has some sense and doesn't in the coffee. Wakatoshi is afraid he might feel sick if he only sees that, let along if he drinks it.

“The strongest duo in the tournament is definitely made of Tōdai's setter, Oikawa Tooru, and ace, Ushijima Wakatoshi,” the reporter says and Wakatoshi can see a smirk forming on Tooru's face. He must be feeling over the top, not only because of what was said, but-

“They said my name first,” Tooru says.

The volleyball feature ends and Wakatoshi shifts on the couch, moving towards the setter, reaching out with his arms until they are wrapped around him. Tooru shrieks as he is pulled back into the wing spiker's body, literally raised from his place and put into his lap.

“Ushiwaka-chan!”

There is a weak struggle coming from him, but it stops as soon as brown locks are sprawled all over a broad chest and the lean body is trapped by strong legs pressed against its hips.

Tooru turns until their chests are pressed flush against each other and his face is buried under Wakatoshi's chin. He inhales, holds the breath in, and then exhales.

Wakatoshi's hands find their place on Tooru's lower back.

The subject is shifted onto the football college teams, so the two stop listening.

Tooru concentrated on the steady pulse he can hear flowing through Wakatoshi's carotid artery and it makes him relax. Under own his chest, he feels a regular pulse, very slow but healthy nonetheless.

It's been a while since they last had the time to stay like this.

In the beginning, they spent most of their nights in this very position, but lately... Not so much.

Practice exhausts them, and they can't really afford to forget university and Tooru's part-time job. Despite having a more than decent salary of the National team, Tooru just couldn't quit his job at the bar close to their home. The owner is understanding and doesn't expect him to be in every single day, but he asked him if he could only come in once or twice a week.

_“I don't want to lose my customers, Oikawa-kun.”_

And Tooru accepted the offer.

Sure, he doesn't earn as much as he did from there, but the amount of money he receives is still greater than half of the pay check the other workers receive. And the tips are more than generous too.

Wakatoshi is already used to his salary from the team, but Tooru found out some time ago about his bank account, where all of his and his parents' savings are. Wakatoshi explained how his father only wanted him to focus on volleyball, without ever having to sacrifice precious time in a job.

His mother gave in to the plan soon after and put her contribute as well.

They have nothing to worry about.

Their financial state is more than stable, the studies are going great – both of them constantly getting the highest of scores in the exams – and they are still climbing, every year closer to the top. All they have to worry about is taking care of their bodies properly, to prevent injuries of any kind.

Wakatoshi wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

Tooru sighs against his skin as long fingers clutch the wing spiker's shirt.

“Ushiwaka-chan?”

“Yes?”

Wakatoshi feels lips against his skin placing feathery kisses here and there.

“Take me to bed.”

Wakatoshi wants to ask him if he wants to finish watching the news, but all of a sudden the signal gets lost and the storm gets worse, so he doesn't really bother.

Slowly, he sits up and Tooru moves along, waiting until they are both in a sitting position to wrap his legs around Wakatoshi's waist. The ace leans in and steals a kiss from his setter, slow and languid and with lots of demanding tongue, which presses against pink lips, asking for entrance.

Tooru opens his mouth with a gasp and tilts his head to the side to deepen it and grips Wakatoshi's shoulders to keep himself steady as the latter unravels him completely.

The rain outside won't stop anytime soon and the thunders keep roaring as lightning pierces through the dark clouds. But it doesn't matter.

Wakatoshi picks Tooru up, supporting his thighs with strong arms, and slowly begins to walk to his bedroom. Tooru's lips are dancing all over his jaw and neck, giving him goosebumps and making his abdomen heat up in a very familiar way.

He doesn't turn on the light once inside, and instead focuses on laying Tooru down across the large mattress. Despite being there, Tooru doesn't untangle his legs from where they are and instead keeps kissing his ace senseless, until they are both breathless, until their eyes are watery and bodies needy.

Wakatoshi reaches to the pillows and grabs them both to pull them closer.

“Raise your head,” he groans and Tooru does, clawing into Wakatoshi's upper arms and assaulting his neck with his teeth, with the intention of leaving a mark there to stay for days.

Wakatoshi adjusts the pillows and pushes Tooru away from him, pressing it between his body and the comforter.

Tooru groans and spreads his legs, allowing Wakatoshi to grind their hips together.

Tooru is unbelievably hard already – Wakatoshi still gets surprised at how easily and how often he gets horny; the countless times they had sex in the locker rooms after practice on Tooru's explicit requests are more than enough proof. The adrenaline makes him drunk and he simply can't control himself and Wakatoshi doesn't ever want to tell him no.

Tooru is completely shameless. In their first year, Tetsurō accidentally walked in on them, but instead of stopping and letting Wakatoshi pull away from him, Tooru caged him with his arms and legs, as if begging him to go deeper.

He only smiled at the middle blocker and let out a _“Hi Tetsu-chan! We're... ah... a bit b-busy,”_ broken by sobs and moans.

Needless to say, the middle blocker always knocks now, wherever they are.

But in their bedrooms, the atmosphere is more intimate, and Tooru likes to take it slow. He likes to enjoy every moment of it, from Wakatoshi undressing him to being prepared _thoroughly_ for him.

When Wakatoshi thrusts into him, Tooru groans, throwing his head back and throwing his arms back to clutch the pillow as hard as he can. Wakatoshi's hands roam all over his ribs and hips and he's being gentle... Oh, so gentle. Tooru's voice is covered by the sound of the thunder, now even louder than before, but they don't care.

“Oikawa...” Wakatoshi moans lowly and Tooru bites his lip, eyes closing as he begins to reach his peak. Wakatoshi's hand wraps around his cock and milks the pleasure out of him, making white spill all over itself and their abdomens, causing his body to quiver and tremble.

Wakatoshi holds him in place underneath him, until he gets down from his high, which he accompanied with slow, deep thrusts, and then proceeds to bring himself to completion as well, moving at a faster place, making Tooru moan and whimper from overstimulation, but he doesn't hear him complain once.

He empties himself inside of him and then collapses on top of him, breathless and sated and exhausted.

Tooru makes sure to keep the wing spiker on top of him, caging him with his arms and not caring at all about the sweat and the cum smeared all over them. Wakatoshi doesn't care either.

Eventually, after some minutes, Wakatoshi reaches out for the tissues on the nightstand and pulls out of him with a quiet groan. Tooru sucks in a breath and then relaxes on the mattress.

He allows Wakatoshi to clean him up whole, from his abdomen, to between his legs and Tooru stays still, his eyes closed and a peaceful expression on his face.

“You are clean.”

Tooru hums and sits up, letting out a quiet growl at the pleasant soreness in his legs and lower back. He moves to sit in the place where his pillow used to be before Wakatoshi moved it. He watches the wing spiker taking a hold of it and throwing it onto his lap.

Tooru laughs when Wakatoshi dives into it, burying his face into the white fabric, his chest pressed against Tooru's leg and his strong arms wrapped around his waist. The setter's slender fingers make their way into Wakatoshi's soft, dark locks, caressing him gently.

Tooru finds moments like these very nice. He has learned that Wakatoshi likes to... _submit_ to him like this: he likes to lie on his lap, sometimes kneel between his legs not only when he wants to blow him; he often exposes his neck to him, his back as well.

“ _I guess he trusts you,”_ Satori told him at the beginning of spring. _“It's the only possible explanation, since I've never seen him behave like this with either me or his other teammates.”_

Tooru never really thought about it. Wakatoshi just behaves as usual, though he has finally started to seek more comfort when they are together. Seek or _give_ comfort when Tooru has bad days, or when he's particularly tired.

Tooru honestly wonders about it all.

“ _I love you,”_ are the words they both told each other and it happened so long ago that Tooru barely recalls the details of the moments. However, even if he can't remember every part of them, he still remembers, and he doesn't need to be reminded, or hear those words again.

Wakatoshi loves him.

He knows.

Because every single action of the wing spiker keeps repeating it over and over _and over_.

Tooru hopes his own actions speak as loud as that.

Sometimes he doubts about it.

Wakatoshi's neck is still sweaty and Tooru dances with his fingers all over it, gathering the few drops and smearing them all over the place. He would like to sink in, underneath him and sleep like this, but all he can focus on is the heavy raindrops falling on the outside.

The position he is in is more than enough right now.

Before he can exhale, Wakatoshi's voice pierces through the silence, loud and deep and Tooru can't even pretend to ignore it.

“Oikawa.”

Tooru's eyes shift from the window to the wing spiker, who is still lying on his stomach, but those gold eyes are now looking up at Tooru, _into_ Tooru, looking for the cause of his distraction – his hand stopped moving and is instead resting on a muscular shoulder.

Wakatoshi opens his mouth to speak, but Tooru beats him to it.

“Stop calling me that.”

He himself is surprised by the tone of his voice. Wakatoshi's lips remain parted, but he hesitates to speak. Tooru swallows hard and looks away.

“Call you what? I am calling you as I always do, Oikawa.”

Tooru clicks with his tongue and curses the denseness of Wakatoshi's mind – it constantly forces him to talk more, to explain everything, to _expose_ himself until there is nothing left to hide anymore.

It took so little time for Wakatoshi to destroy all the walls Tooru had built during his middle school and high school years. And Tooru doesn't mind one bit. His stomach hurts a lot less, his hands don't tremble and he sleeps more peacefully than ever.

“Yeah, I know. Definitely too formal, though, Ushiwaka-chan.”

Wakatoshi blinks and raises on his arms and knees, then straightens up, looking Tooru in the eyes. He finds him looking at him with a small smile on his face.

“Are you telling me I am allowed to call you by your given name?”

Tooru can't help but chuckle, endeared by Wakatoshi's almost unsure attitude. “Were you actually waiting for permission?” The simple shrug he receives at the question makes him laugh. It doesn't last long, because Wakatoshi is looking away, a little shy, with an expression so rare Tooru wants to take its picture.

But no.

This moment is too precious to be ruined by him going to look around the apartment for his phone.

“Then you are allowed to call me by my given name,” _I want to hear it coming from your mouth._ Tooru then looks at him with pure expectation on his face.

Wakatoshi licks his lips slowly, his mind processing the new occurrence requested by his setter. But he's been wanting to say it for quite some time.

Tooru closes his eyes and leans his head back against the headboard, his hands clutching the edges of the fluffy pillow, waiting.

Silence envelops them for a while and Tooru almost begins to think he will only hear the sound of the rain until he falls asleep.

“ _Tooru_.”

Hazel eyes fly open and a sharp breath invades his lungs. But gold is there, a few inches away from Tooru and he can only narrow his eyes, let his lips curve up until cheeks hurt. He wraps his arms around the wing spiker and kisses him sweetly, gently, slowly.

Their tongues brush against each other's lips, occasionally touching each other and when Wakatoshi is about to pull Tooru over, ready to flip him and press his back into the mattress again, Tooru takes a hold of his wrists, pulling away and pressing their foreheads together instead.

“Say it again.”

“Tooru.”

Tooru smiles, genuinely.

“Again.”

“Tooru.”

“Doesn't it sound better than Oikawa?”

Wakatoshi nods, kissing the corner of his mouth, before allowing him to finally pull back and into his previous sitting position. Wakatoshi lies down as well, head once again on the setter's lap and sighs when he feels skilled hands bury into his hair.

He wouldn't mind to die like this.

It is the perfect place, the perfect moment, and with the perfect person. But he wants to spend more days like this, once they graduate from college and only have practice to think of, once there are no more late nights spent studying, or stress for the upcoming exams, or headaches that never go away.

For now it's enough though.

The weather made it their night and Wakatoshi intends to enjoy every single second of it.

And yet...

“Tooru,” he calls quietly.

Tooru hums in response, almost absentmindedly.

“Will you call me by my name as well?”

Tooru raises an eyebrow. “Don't you like Ushiwaka-chan?” he giggles, and there is nothing he wouldn't give to see what kind of expression Wakatoshi is making in this very moment. Long fingers trace the defined muscle of Wakatoshi's shoulders and back, the touch as light as a feather, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“No.”

Tooru's smirk softens and his eyes narrow ever so slightly. “Is that so?”

“You have never called Bokuto or Kuroo that.”

“But I call them-”

“You do not use the part of their surnames, while you still use mine.”

Tooru is really tired for these low class philosophical considerations, but he doesn't want to sleep yet. “So, you would prefer me to call you Waka-chan?”

The heavy sigh coming from the wing spiker is enough of an answer to that question.

“It would be an improvement, but I would-”

“Shut up, _Wakatoshi_.”

The large body on top of him stiffens visibly, but Tooru keeps caressing the warm skin in a soothing way, gently and carefully, until every single muscle is relaxed again.

“Wakatoshi,” he repeats and this time it's a whisper.

He receives no response, so he carefully moves, sliding the pillow and Wakatoshi's head off his legs and laying them gently on the mattress, before he decides to rest next to him and bring the thin white sheet over them.

The fabric is cool against their warmth, but Tooru finds relief in pressing himself against Wakatoshi, tangling his own legs with his. Gold eyes are watching him intensely, but the overall feel is so much softer. Wakatoshi doesn't look dangerous, doesn't look as the usual monster of volleyball, so mighty and invincible.

Tooru places a kiss on his forehead and then moves until he is able to bury Wakatoshi's face in his neck. The large palm of Wakatoshi's left hand rests on his lower back and Tooru can't help but wonder how long it could have been like this if only they had got together earlier.

“Tooru.”

Tooru doesn't speak.

“I love you,” Wakatoshi says for the third time in their life. It throws Tooru off, because he doesn't expect it. He never expected it coming in the first place. Wakatoshi isn't vocal, he doesn't speak about his emotions and often Tooru finds himself wondering if he is made of stone or what.

He places a kiss on the crown of the other's head. “I love you too, Wakatoshi.”

The rain falls, thunders roar and it lasts for the whole night, but none of them cares.

They sleep.

***

The rain doesn't stop the next day, unfortunately. They don't go running and instead decide to spend their free afternoon on the couch, Tooru reading a book he bought recently and Wakatoshi fixing up a couple of notes he'll need for the upcoming exams.

Silence surrounds them and nothing moves, nothing matters but them.

Tooru glances at his partner at some point; he is unnoticed, of course. He can't help but think how nice this feels and mentally scolds himself for taking so long to get used to it.

He wouldn't go back for anything in this world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there!
> 
> I am coming to you after a month and a half full of various tests... I only want to cry and sleep and cry some more and then sleep some more. 
> 
> I feel so guilty for making you wait for long and then coming up with a shitty chapter like this one... I really don't like how it came out, but all the ideas I had just disappeared from my head, so yeah...
> 
> To be honest, I've been feeling quite down these last weeks; maybe it's because of the stress, or the fact that I don't even have time for myself anymore - I can afford myself to go to the bathroom three times a day and sleep no more than four hours a night. Yeah, I'm a mess.
> 
> But summer is near... Three more weeks! I hope I don't die by then.
> 
> Anyway, this is the last chapter of this static second part. This is pretty much everything you need to know about Wakatoshi's and Tooru's college life - the dorks are sooo in love and they deserve to be happy... - I really hope you enjoy it! It was a pleasure for me to write it and I hope you liked reading it even a little bit.
> 
> .
> 
> I have decided to take a little pause with this universe. I really need to get through this period of hell and gather my ideas to plan the third part, but there are other things I'd like to do as well, so I apologize, because you might be waiting incredibly long for the last part. 
> 
> It could be a week, a month, maybe even more.
> 
> I do have a rather developed idea for an UshiOi and I was planning to work on it in summer. I hope I can make it, 'cause it's been bothering me for quite a while now. First, I have to survive Kant and Hegel and then I'm going to be free, haha. Maybe.
> 
> (Please save me...)
> 
> ***
> 
> Thank you so much for reading so far! Every Comment, Bookmark and Kudo is infinitely appreciated!


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